


Rewrite Project

by BottledUpWishes



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen, and headcanons, complete w/ more girls and no fanservice, like a lot of canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 105,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottledUpWishes/pseuds/BottledUpWishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially a rewrite of Return of Kings because oh boy was it a mess by just the first episode.  It won't follow events and characters 100% through, that said less important scenes are not gonna be spelt out and are subject to being omitted, but hey this is gonna be a Wild Ride in any case.</p><p>Because we could all use a rewrite of S2 that's got no disgusting and thankless fanservice nor gratuitous flashbacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knack

Within crowded streets, the two sole Clansmen of the Silver King walked alongside each other, both taking advantage of the calm. Between fruit disguised bombs and having kerosene dumped onto them, it wasn't hard to appreciate short bits of peace. They were simple moments, consisting of eating meals and spending time with Kukuri and the other students at Ashinaka, all the while mixing in their priority of finding Shiro. Their search, although unfruitful, hadn't dampened, and for now was at a slow pace, depending on the red, glass marble Anna gave them nearly two months ago.

 

For now, a leisurely stroll made up their day, enjoying the fresh, cold December air.

 

Someone on a bike rushed past them, and a green, plush parrot made its way into Neko’s possession. Delighted, her eyes brightened.

 

“A bird?”

 

Without hesitation, she bit it, pulling at it in a feral fashion. Once apparent to her that this wasn’t an edible product, her interest dulled.

 

“Bleh! I got fuzz all over my tongue,“ she said. She held up the stuffed bird for Kuroh to see. “It looks like the stupid green bird!”

 

At that, Kuroh frowned. He looked ahead to locate the person who tossed the stuffed bird at them, but to no avail. Found culprit or not, if that stuffed bird was something affiliated with <jungle>, then no good could come of it. Especially in this crowd of people. He wanted to inspect it further, but it would be safer to do so in an isolated alley.

 

“Neko, follow me.”

 

The two walked into a nearby, empty alley, and Neko still held the stuffed bird up for the both of them to see it.

 

“It looks normal enough...” Kuroh mused. He took hold and shook it, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

 

Although he still held it, Neko bit into it again. She ignored Kuroh's disapproving look, but stopped seconds later.

 

“Kurosuke, it sounds weird.”

 

“Sounds weird? It's not making any so--”

 

Without warning, Neko shoved the stuffed bird next to his ear. _“Listen!”_

 

Making it so the stuffed bird wasn't assimilating to his flesh, Kuroh took it back and held it to his ear to satisfy Neko. He paid close attention to the stuffed bird, blocking out the street's ambiance to the best of his ability. Just faintly, he thought he heard what Neko meant about “sounds weird”. As in, a rhythmic, rapid ticking.

 

Honestly, again with this? 

 

Such a desentisised reaction wasn't pleasant, but if <jungle> insisted on the same tired old bomb trick, then of course Kuroh's alarm would greatly lessen. He sighed, using his spatial hand to hold and cover the stuffed bird. It didn't take long for it to explode with a muffled sound, and Kuroh nonchalantly dropped its remnants to the ground.

 

“They're really underestimating us with these cheap tricks,” he noted.

 

Neko nodded, and pointed further down the alley. “Speaking of that, Kurosuke, over there, there's some helmet weirdo hiding behind the dumpster.”

 

Thus, out scrambled one of <jungle>'s masked Clansmen, yelling profanities at himself and asking what the hell that “magic hand” was. Along with being sorely uneducated on his targets' powers, this Clansman had no idea it wasn't hard for the cat and dog to easily catch up with him and block his path.

 

Smiling boastfully, Neko waved at him. “You're not getting away!”

 

“Shit, what the hell?” The Clansman stumbled backwards, ready to run the opposite way, only to have his arm yanked back by Kuroh with his feet no longer touching the ground. “Lemme go!”

 

“I'd like to ask you two questions before that,” Kuroh said. For one, who sent him out here? <jungle>'s King, or was it an order from one of the Clan's higher ups, like Yukari Mishakuji. Secondly, was this Clansman himself even aware of someone named Yashiro Isana.

 

Like some frenzied animal, the Clansman struggled to free himself. “I dunno what or who the hell you're talking about!”

 

The Silver Clansmen exchanged looks, and Kuroh released the Clansman without much thought.

 

“He's just one of their pawns.”

 

“Mm-hmm!”

 

The Clansman, personally, didn't care one way or another how these two classified him. Whatever the hell they were talking about, he deemed himself free to run the hell away.

 

Before he could get very far, however, someone's knee drove straight into his stomach, resulting in him gagging and holding his stomach in order to maintain some of dignity.

 

In front of Kuroh and Neko was a long, dark-haired girl with copper skin and broad shoulders. A short girl, just a few centimetres taller than Neko, and not much older. Her dark blue, snakelike eyes briefly met theirs, and at the other Clansman's groaning, she returned her attention to him.

 

“You failed the mission?”

 

Shakily, the Clansman nodded. “Y-yeah... but that guy! He's too strong! You can't expect a buncha people to just up n' get 'im the first time around!” His eyes darted back and forth between the girl and Kuroh, and brought an image of the JP on the former. “All you put was to be careful! No other warnings! That's too vague!”

 

The girl crouched to his height on the ground and took the man's PDA, studying it with great impassiveness.

 

“In this photo of him, tell me what you see,” she ordered. In response, the man gritted his teeth and scoffed, as if insulted by the question. Consequently, that prompted the girl to shove the PDA's image into his face even more, and her free hand roughly gripped his helmet, tugging him closer towards the image. “You see it, don't it? The hilt of his sword? In the right-hand corner, you can see his sword. Why wouldn't you think someone with a sword is someone to not take the utmost precaution with?” She spoke quickly, almost urgently, but her tone, ultimately, was flat and dull.

 

With shaky legs, the man stood up sloppily. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” He reached for his phone, but ended up tripping on himself and returning to where he started. With another scoff, he shifted away from her, eagerly awaiting her response.

 

She only fiddled and typed with his PDA, now not even looking in his direction, and a computerised voice spoke from it.

 

**[Moderator's input. Mission failed. Mission failed. Your points will be nullified.]**

 

A distinctive beep played from the PDA, like a stereotypical failure noise one might hear in an old handheld video game, and the man across from her instantly paled.

 

“Hey... what the hell did you just do?” He persisted in trying to retrieve his PDA, but to no avail, as the girl quickly straightened up and loomed over him. His face, once a scowl, turned into a wide-eyed, rigid smile, and he laughed in an uneven, choppy fashion, his hands twitching at his sides. “The hell? You can't just... you can't just do that... I fucked up one mission and you're just gonna... screw me over like that?”

 

The girl nodded. “That is my policy. You fail, thus you have no need for JP. We have no need for dead weight that can't even accomplish simple missions.”

 

JP. 'Jungle Points', the major component of <jungle>'s asinine game. The more points these people earned, the higher their levels went, along with ranks within the Clan itself. The higher ranked one was, the more privileges they benefited from.

 

Judging from the way she held herself, this girl was nothing less than one of its higher ranking Clansmen. Although, it still stuck Kuroh odd that she was unarmed and wandering about. It couldn't have been coincidence she ran into the Silver Clansmen, but the fact that she appeared without any sort of weapon was either complete arrogance or a quiet warning.

 

The man's breathing was heavy and frenzied. With a strident yell, he scrambled to his feet and went right after the girl. He gripped her shirt collar and made a point of getting in her face. “You! Don't mess with me!” Although he did his best to sound threatening, it didn't take a genius to notice the taut, strangulated unease in his words. “What right do you have acting all high and mighty?”

 

Unfazed, the girl stood motionless. “Get out of my face. You'll regret any further action.”

 

Against the warning, the man reared an unsteady fist back. Instinctively, Kuroh moved to separate the two, but the sudden feeling of hair on his neck standing on end urged him to stand back. Beneath the lower Clansman's feet, a small, green circle formed, and the girl's own hair subtly rose. In a bright, sharp flash, electricity thrived straight up the man, who ultimately collapsed with a loud, unpleasant thud.

 

Beside Kuroh, Neko narrowly stared at the man and unaffected girl, making a low noise of disapproval. Her grip around the umbrella tightened. “Kurosuke... I don't like Snake Eyes. She's like an eel, too.”

 

“Snake Eyes...” Kuroh repeated under his breath. “I know.” It'd be foolish to trigger a fight so suddenly, especially when she depicted no qualms with harming others.

 

“We should get her before she gets us!” Neko was definitely made an effort to whisper, but it was clearly a struggle for the Strain.

 

The 'snake-eyed' girl glanced at them blankly, her eyes panning up both Clansmen. When she finished, she shook her head and turned away from them, walking past the unconscious man and closer to the crowd outside the alley. Without a word, she tossed his PDA to the pavement.

 

Kuroh watched the PDA's screen crack, the reflection of buildings around it now distorted. So far, that was the only other bit of damage the girl pulled off. The girl, for whatever reason, stopped walking to pull a handheld console from her back pocket.

 

“I'm not fighting you – yet – because I _decided_ not to. Out of principle.”

 

As if to humour her offhanded comment, Kuroh questioned what sort of principle she spoke meant.

 

Loud beeps and swells blasted from whatever game she was playing. “I didn't approach you under any orders. It was only because I saw you. I won't fight anyone if it's just a waste of time,” she explained, “if you choose to fight me, then that's a different story, but I have to assume you know better than to do that in the middle of the street.”

 

Instinctively, Kuroh gripped Kotowari's hilt. “I find it hard to believe you care about the well-being of civilians.”

 

Immediately, the girl firmly nodded. “I'm unarmed, but not defenceless. It wouldn't be hard to grab someone as a shield. Better a stranger getting run through than me.” She glanced at Kotowari. “You'd at least finally utilise that thing's purpose.”

 

“That thing?”

 

“A sword is not a person.”

 

Before he could retort, the rapid jingling of bells caught Kuroh's attention, and he had to endure Neko pouncing onto his back. “Kurosuke! Let's just take her out already! That way we won't deal with her later!” Her mismatched eyes glared at the girl, and she gave off a sound reminiscent of a cat's low hissing. “Stop messing with us and Shiro!” She pointed the umbrella at her harshly, treating it like a weapon.

 

The girl focused on her levelly, and brushed long strands of dark hair off her shoulder. She said nothing, did nothing, she didn't even try to walk away again. Slowly, her eyes returned to her video game, and she just stood there playing it. Next to her feet, the unconscious man only groaned.

 

_So she didn't kill him._

 

It was disconcerting, being able to peg a person as someone who would kill another without a second thought. <jungle> made it clear that the well-being of others, even their own Clansmen, took little to no priority, even for their executive members. Those at the top could take care of themselves, meanwhile anyone lower was merely an expendable pawn ignorant to <jungle>'s true goal.

 

A despicable strategy, yet, so far, it worked in their favour. Their surveillance of the other Clans proved to be top notch, as they had all the clansmen of other Kings scrambling about like panicked mice. Their executives set everything into motion while their King remained comfortable on his own.

 

Kuroh looked over at the remnants of the stuffed parrot bomb, its surface and edges frayed and burnt to ash. Although he doubted that the girl would respond, he couldn't help but comment, “Your Clan will go to any length to get rid of people in its way.”

 

Briefly, her eyes met Kuroh's, only to return to the game. The game's sound effects took place of any input the girl had. Neko hopped in front of Kuroh, a hand on her hip. “Mrr! Snake Eyes, stop ignoring us! Why are you just standing around? You're just gonna bother us later only to get your butt kicked!”

 

As much as Kuroh wanted to encourage Neko's sentiment, neither of them could take any of <jungle>'s true Clansmen for granted. They were powerful, dangerous people. He wouldn't put it past this girl to be the same.

 

“Why are you just standing there? You intended to leave earlier, didn't you?”

 

She nodded. Looking closer, her rapid button pressing gradually slowed down, and her exclusive attention on the screen declined. Kuroh could have sworn she looked at him for more than a mere two seconds this time. His shoulders slumping, Kuroh sighed and put a hand on Neko's shoulder to gently pull her back from the girl's proximity. “Neko, let's go.”

 

The Strain dug her heels into the ground. With great force, she struck Kuroh's side with the umbrella's point. “No way! We can't just let these creeps do whatever they want!” She returned to being ahead of Kuroh and once again pointed the umbrella at the other girl. “They keep bothering us and Anna just to bother with Shiro. Two against one, we can take her.”

 

It was a challenge for Kuroh, trying to listen to Neko whilst the end of that umbrella remained lodged against his side. “Neko, I know where you're coming from, but it's too risky.” <jungle>'s Clansman could have attacked them at any point now; instead, she continued to play her video game. If they were able to leave without prompting a fight in the middle of the street, they should take advantage of the situation.

 

Neko snorted. “Then let's just interrogate her or something.” She kept watch on the girl, as if to make sure she wouldn't start to leave, and her stance left no question that she was ready to use the umbrella against her.

 

“I don't mind,” she said. Putting her console away, the girl straightened up her posture and looked at the two more intently. Her eyes, though still cold, were alert and focused. They communicated some hint of sincerity, or, at the very least, lacked aggressive intent.

 

Still, it didn't convince Kuroh to lessen his guard, and Neko herself was ready to strike at any given moment. Cautiously, he spoke. “The main question is why your Clan is doing this in the first place.”

 

“Dunno. Next question.”

 

The answer was deliberate and precisely cut through the tension. How straight the girl's face was mixed with her deadpan tone almost made her response laughable.

 

Yet, instead, it irritated Kuroh. How someone could associate themselves with <jungle>'s actions, without any idea what their motives were, left an impression of being half-hearted and careless. The girl in front of Kuroh was definitely an executive, meaning she earned her rank through the Clan's point system. To be as in the dark as one of <jungle>'s executives... seemed almost insulting to him. Why would anyone - other than their pawns - participate in this without any idea of what their King had in store for them?

 

“Don't mess around!” Neko waved the umbrella rapidly. “What do you jerks want with Shiro?”

 

“I don't know the answer to that as well. Although, being more specific, I'm unaware of any rhyme or reason <jungle>'s King has done any of what he's done.” The girl looked up into the sky, as if searching for something. “Rather, it has nothing to do with me and my reasons.”

 

“Then what are your reasons?”

 

“Knowing my personal ambition won't help you find your King. I suggest keeping on topic with what benefits you, knowledge wise.” Her robotic, flat answers left no room for compromise. Again, she looked into the sky, and nodded to herself sternly. “Although, would you mind if I asked you two something? Just one question.”

 

“Kurosuke!” Neko hissed. She yanked at his arm, pulling him off to the side and somewhat away from the girl. She forced Kuroh to lean down to level with her eyes, and she spoke in an urgent, strong whisper. “I don't trust her. She's creepy.” She tugged at her eyes to imitate the snake-like shape, but her imitation of the girl's distant eyes went unsuccesful.. She spoke stiffly and monotonously. “She's like a robot.”

 

Agreeable, but as far as <jungle> was concerned, that robotic, snake-eyed girl was the only one that expressed any rationality thus far, instead of mindlessly diving into a fight. She was willing to communicate. Granted, so far she had nothing helpful to give the Silver Clan. Shiro's whereabouts, what he had to do with <jungle>'s plan, all that was still up in the air.

 

Neko didn't budge, and with the umbrella aimed at the girl, kept insisting out that it'd be safer just to take care of “those Green creeps” as soon as possible. It wasn't like they owed them courtesy in the first place.

 

In the middle of her rant, she suddenly lowered the umbrella, and she tilted her head with a pout. If she had ears, they might've lowered. “Kurosuke, look,” she muttered, “she isn't a robot. She's a ghost. A vengeful spirit!”

 

_A ghost?_

 

Kuroh followed where Neko directed her gaze, and, as she stated, the other girl had disappeared without their notice. She went from wanting to ask a question to up and disappearing without a trace, definitely like a ghost. Given her toneless speech, it wasn't that hard to believe she was, in fact, some wronged spirit unable to pass on.

 

Somehow, the air felt heavy, and it left Kuroh feeling like a boulder set in his stomach.

 

Neko jumped next to him, and swung the umbrella in the air as if it was an actual sword“Kurosuke! She's right there!”

 

The umbrella abruptly stopped, and where it did, an arm rippled into sight, slowly spreading out to reveal a torso, a shoulder, a neck, and, soon enough, the whole body of the 'ghost' reappeared, her blank stare concentrated on Neko. No, actually, her eyebrows rose just a bit, expressing the vaguest bit of surprise that Neko somehow tracked her down.

 

Her stare went unappreciated by Neko, who slowly lowered the umbrella. “Er?”

 

“Somehow, the 'Mage' sniffed me out?” the girl asked. She sounded rather absent-minded, almost asking herself more than anyone near her. “Yet... the 'Templar' hasn't made his move...”

 

Enough was _enough_.

 

If this girl wanted him to make a move so badly, then fine; Kuroh wasn't going to tolerate her trying to jerk them around any longer. He drew Kotowari from its sheath, directing the blade at the girl.

 

“Your games are becoming tiresome.”

 

The girl leaned toward the blade, and she calmly tapped its side. “You expect me to be intimidated by someone who depends on a weapon?” She stepped forward, allowing the blade's tip to brush against her neck. “I already said I have no interest fighting you yet.” Still speaking, she hadn't stopped moving.

 

A chill went through Kuroh's entire body, but not because of the girl's crass nature or how she calmly walked into a sword. The sword never pierced her skin, and instead phased right through her, and her walk hadn't ceased until she walked straight through Kuroh. The sensation was miserably cold and dizzying, as if time had momentarily stopped, and a sickening feeling rose up in the back of his throat.

 

Alarmed, Neko moved to his side to prevent him from hunching over more than he already had. She glared at the girl. “Snake Eyes! What did you do to Kurosuke?!”

 

The girl flipped her hair off her shoulder once again. “Nothing. I simply walked past him.” She took in the sight of Kuroh trying to gain his bearings. “Logically speaking, the fact that my atoms just went through spaces of his own atoms – for the most part - would naturally make him more than a little off.”

 

In between spurts of coughing, Kuroh took slow, deep breaths. “Thanks for the explanation.” Not that it explained her little disappearing act.

 

“Don't mention it. May I ask you my question, now?”

 

“...fine.”

 

“Thank you.” For a third time, she looked into the sky, and this time also observed the streets. Satisfied with their environment, she extender her hand to the two. “Simply put, it'd be in everyone's best interests if you attempted to _collaborate_ with us,  <jungle>, that is.”

 

The question clung to the air. Both the cat and dog's eyes widened, mixed with shock and disbelief. Were they hearing right? This girl, an executive of the Clan that recklessly endangered the lives of innocent people for their own goals, that targeted their King and friends, wanted them to collaborate? To work together?

 

Incredulous, Kuroh's pulse pounded, and it was near impossible for him to steady his hands against his growing frustration.

 

“ _Collaborate?”_

 

“That is what I said, yes.”

 

Neko bristled. “There's no way we'd work with you snot-green creeps!”

 

Undeterred, the girl took out her phone, and a holographic image of Shiro appeared. “Our goals coincide. We're both searching for the same person. Our intentions, yes, are different. But we'll address that once the Silver King makes his appearance.”

 

Kuroh forced himself to straighten up. She expected them to go along with this just because of that one detail? They certainly both searched for Shiro, but that was the end of the similarity. There was nothing safe about being near <jungle>, there was nothing moral about working alongside them. Further, it'd be spitting in Shiro's face anyway. He wouldn't want anyone cooperating with people endangering innocent lives.

 

“And we're not going behind Anna's back like that, either!” Neko added, “you're the jerks that messed with her in the first place!”

 

The phone's image switched to Anna. “<jungle> can easily deal with both HOMRA and Scepter 4. In my opinion, the Red King herself isn't a threat.” Next, it showed Munakata. “As for him, he'll eventually be more a threat to everyone's safety than our King is.” In a stuttering fashion, the blue Sword of Damocles appeared, with noticeable wear and tear.

 

“Kushina has little control over her powers, and Munakata already set his fate in stone. Between myself and Yukari, both Kings are child's play. You needn't worry about them, let alone their Clansmen. Besides, you two can clearly defend yourselves. There's no need to worry about any petty sense of betrayal you feel towards people you barely know.”

 

In response, Neko picked up one of the bomb's remnants and threw it at the girl, but it ended even more burnt by a strike of electricity.

 

“Snake Eyes, get lost! We're not gonna work with you losers!”

 

“That's a shame, but so be it. Should you reconsider, I'll be sure to hear you out.” She strode into the larger stream of people in the street and quickly pulled off her second disappearing act.

 

_Just like a ghost..._

 

Still pale, Kuroh rubbed his forehead, hoping to alleviate the dizzying lightheadedness, and gave up hoping the sick feeling in his gut would subside soon. Neko placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Kurosuke?”

 

Resisting the urge to lean on his sword, Kuroh shook his head.

“I'm fine.” He noticed how the other man hadn't regained consciousness yet. “Neither this guy, nor that girl had anything useful to say, huh...”

 

Neko nodded, and she soon had her more confident nature back. “Yeah! They were totally useless!” She huffed in annoyance, and made a point of hopping over the man to walk on ahead. She wrapped her arm around Kuroh's to make sure he as well got a move on. Her expression was bright, with a self-assured smile. “Doesn't matter though! We'll find Shiro anyway!”

 

“Neko, don't drag me.” Granted, against the dizziness, it was hard not to smile in the presence of Neko's optimism, and he nodded alongside her.

 

“We'll surely reach him before <jungle> succeeds in their goals.”

 

“Exactly! Now let's get a move on! That fiasco left me hungry and it's not even lunch time!” She looked up at him expectantly. “So you gotta cook.”

"You demand that from someone who's just had an unpleasant experience."

Neko waved her hand dismissively. “You always say you're gonna recover from junk five minutes later, don't wimp out now!”

 


	2. Kinetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much shorter chapter, focusing on Gojo's involvement.

Above the streets, a boy hummed to himself, tapping his PDA while sitting out of sight on a building. The rising unrest of the public, and the growing strain within its core three Clans, they were all there to watch whenever he wanted to. He heard someone's footsteps behind him, but paid them no mind.

 

“You've been playing up here, Sukuna?”

 

At _that_ voice, the young Clansman ceased his humming and held up his PDA, the profile of the Silver Clansman on it. Although there was a light air to him, he shot the newcomer a sour look. “What's up with involving yourself like that? Hisui gave seeing things off to me. That's annoying, Akina. You're annoying.” This girl trying to shove her way into _his_ spotlight... Not. Cool.

 

Akina calmly nodded, and her expression was softer than it had been during her time with the Silver Clansmen.

 

“My bad.”

 

She sat on the edge beside the younger Clansman, leaving one leg dangling while the other propped her arm up. “I never intended to 'crash the server'.” The air around her was light and calm, and her voice didn't sound like some automated message. “If I gave you something, would you stop sulking?”

 

“Huh?” Sukuna grimaced and stuck his nose up with a snort. “You can't just bribe me.”

 

A game cartridge slid next to him. “Think of it as a belated birthday present,” Akina suggested, “yours was weeks ago.”

 

Sukuna looked at the cartridge with narrowed eyes. His look gleamed with fierce dismissal, but the faintest hint of interest presented itself as well. Stubbornly, he kept an unimpressed appearance, and picked the game up only to wave it in Akina's face.

 

“How'd you get this?”

 

Akina shrugged. “I didn't buy it.” She lowered the boy's hand. “You mean to say 'Thank you', by the way.”

 

“I know what I wanna say!” He crossed his arms, giving both Akina and the game a hard look. The game in question hadn't hit the shelves yet – not even pre-orders were available. So, _if_ it was the real deal, how the hell did she get her hands on it? And who would play crap like that? It was probably all buggy and a waste of time to bother with in the first place.

 

“I've managed to dig dirt up on over five people from this little triumvirate against us, and your concern is how I got some unreleased game.”

 

“Well if you're gonna give it to me then I don't want you trying to prank me or something,” Sukuna retorted, “that thing's probably unplayable.”

 

Akina sighed. “I finished it just ten minutes ago. If you truly paid attention, you would've recognized it as the one I played around the Silver King's Clansmen.”

 

“As if I paid attention to some dumb junk like that.” Although Sukuna was more than happy to prolong this aimless conversation, he slipped the game into his coat pocket when Akina occupied herself with taming her hair.

 

“You should know it'll be hard for people to take you seriously if you don't put more effort into simple things like attention to detail.” Akina patiently waited for Sukuna to settle. “And by 'people', I mean the ones not babying you.”

 

 _'Babying' me?_ Sukuna rose an eyebrow, but didn't find himself interested enough to ask for elaboration.

 

“You want me to obsess over every little detail like you and Yukari do?”

 

“Do not associate being thorough in your actions with being anything like that man.” Standing up, Akina struck the back of Sukuna's head. Instead of acknowledging his loud complaints, she stuffed her hands into her shorts pockets.. “And don't lump us together like that, honestly.”

 

“You hate him?”

 

Akina looked below to the streets. “I just have better standards for myself than to act in a way that resembles Yukari's approach.”

 

An amused grin crossed Sukuna's face. “Ya don't have to worry about that. Chances are he's gonna poem you to death after you lowkey made fun of his old King's swords.”

 

“That's too bad.” Dryly, Akina said that she was sure that the poems and flowery speeches he'd offer about the damn things would be more than inspiring.

 

_Ugh._

 

It wasn't like Akina was ever much a socialite, but she never took something as a straight up joke. It was all or nothing with her every moment.

 

_No fun._

 

Sukuna huffed, resting his head against the staff of his scythe and scrolling through his PDA. The most going on at the moment was the basic activity of low-ranked Clansmen continuing the same old hell. That sort of carnage fulfilled the many destructive Clansmen of <jungle>, and civilians' reactions made the missions especially rewarding, let alone the chock full amount of JP they could gain. Further, the ballsier ones aiming for people worth 6000 or even just 4000 JP really showed promise, and there was nothing like watching people try and not get their ass kicked by going after Kings worth 10,000, only to have the swords looming above totally wreck them.

 

Gojo looked from his phone and observed the cloudy blue sky. “Y'know, that Blue King doesn't have much longer.” He was a dead man walking.

 

Akina nodded. “He won't make it easy. But at this rate, with how quickly his Sword of Damocles is wearing out, he'll either have to demolish the rest of Japan, or let someone finish him off.” She started to walk away from him, but paused. “Hey, Sukuna.”

 

“Hmm?” The young J-rank cocked his head in her direction, waiting for her to continue.

 

“Let's make a bet.”

 

A bet. Something like that from Akina was unexpected, but it had a nice ring. Sukuna reclined back, his hands under his head. This sounded super interesting, so he'd happily make a bet, whatever it was about. Unfortunately, his chance to ask Akina what sort of bet they should make was usurped by the two new figures he saw flanking her.

 

The first was a tall, long-limbed (lanky?) woman with pin-straight sandy bleached hair and amethyst eyes, a beauty mark sitting under the right one. She looked dressed for a funeral, a round, yellow paper fan gripped in one hand. The other was a boy with messy black hair. He wore what seemed to be a heavy winter coat, the lower half of his face concealed by a thick scarf. The most Sukuna could make of him was his sickly pale skin, and dark, sunken grey eyes.

 

The two weirdos weren't <jungle> Clansmen, or at the last Clansmen that regularly interacted with the higher ranked ones. On the other hand, Akina clearly knew them, unfazed by their sudden appearance.

 

The woman spun the fan in her hand, and click-clacked her way to Sukuna. She knelt to his height, and, now, Sukuna could faintly see the reddened scarring on her left eye's sclera.

 

In a silvery voice, she spoke. “So you're the Boy Wonder of <jungle>, then?” With the fan, she tapped her chin. “Hmm... a sure-fire diamond in the rough.” She reached out her hand, adorned by long nails and tugged Sukuna's cheek even after he tried backing away. Those long nails dug into his skin and stung. “This is just precious. You're like a child guerrilla, and you're smart enough to compensate your short reach by using some scythe taller than you. The oddly aggressive pigeon surrounded by hawks?”

 

Sukuna bristled at her cooing. Swatting her hand away, he rubbed his cheek, able to feel the indents of nails on the skin. “Who the heck are you?”

 

“Call me Yuko. Yuko Tamamo.” She pointed her fan at the sick-looking boy. “That's Shiki, some of our friends nickname him 'Emperor', for whatever reason. He's not fond of strangers, so he won't speak to you for right now.”

 

The most Shiki did was nod slightly at him. Yuko finally straightened herself up, but the way she maintained eye contact with Sukuna definitely gave off the impression she was more than looking down on him.

 

“To be honest, you needn't fret over us too much. We're old, good friends of Akina, and the business connecting us to your Clan is rather important to our boss.”

 

“Boss? Who? And what's the bet, Akina? Hey, hey, what's all this junk you're hiding?”

 

Instead of answering, Sukuna looked at Akina, her smile now a calm, inquiring look.

 

Waiting for a breeze to pass, Akina nodded, but told Yuko not to say anything. “I'll explain some other time, Sukuna. For now, we're busy.” She held her arm up, and with a flutter, Kotosaka landed, squawking at her about her involving herself with the Silver Clan earlier. She dismissed the bird's irritation. “Look at your PDA, Sukuna. I'll see you later.” She waved dismissively, and the woman and boy closely followed her.

 

Leave it to Akina to somehow have the weirdest friends or whatever. Reluctantly, he did as Akina told him, opening his PDA and skimming the screen, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but soon, <jungle>'s icon appeared, and without Sukuna's acting, it automatically connected to Hisui's contact.

 

Sukuna smiled. “Hey, y'know,” he began, “things are getting interesting., thanks to the losers we threw in, Nagare. It just sucks that we didn't lure out the Silver King.” His irritation subsided quickly thanks to his own comments, and, once more, he took comfort in knowing the Blue King didn't have long.

 

The fact that the time to move was near, that was good enough for now.

 


	3. Kindred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty dialogue heavy, and I haven't had time to run this through my usual beta-readers. There was some extra stuff I wanted to add, but the flow of this chapter is rough enough that I didn't test my luck.

The Silver King fell of his own volition.

 

From that sky he clung to for seven decades.

 

*******

 

_Shiro, as your Silver Clansman, Kuroh Yatogami, I will do everything I can on my part until they day you return._

 

*******

 

The aroma of freshly prepared tea filled the Blue King's room. Next to the two cups of tea, a dish of red bean paste piled high went untouched. Sitting across the King himself, Kuroh drank from his own cup, carefully listening to the man's gratitude over his and Neko's 'apprehension' in the Green Clansman from earlier. Apparently, he'd been told that Kuroh and Neko went missing after the bomb created by <jungle> back in October. In truth, the Silver Clansmen caught onto the fact that <jungle> targeted them, so going into hiding was their best option.

 

“A prudent decision,” Munakata complimented.

 

Ignoring it, Kuroh asked if they were being targeted _because_ they were Silver Clansmen.

 

Munakata summed it up neatly. By now, it was a known fact <jungle> sought Shiro out. “Who'd be the best lead than his first and only Clansmen?” Abruptly, he pointed the ladle in his hand at Kuroh, who couldn't help but lean backwards a bit. “That would be that young Strain girl and you, Kuroh Yatogami. It's only natural you're being targeted.”

 

Just what was the Green Clan? According to Munakata, very, very few of its Clansmen actually met their King. Kuroh himself understood that the Clan organised itself via internet, but still, to not know their own King, what an odd thing.

  
“I agree. Perhaps 'Clansmen' is a poor choice of words for them.” Munakata stood up, walking out of his office's more traditional section and into its modern area. Appearing on a screen was a bright flash of green. It was rapid in movement, and a turning, green image of the Earth slowly spun on it, with a geometric-looking tree appearing. Below the tree, text spelt out 'JUNGLE', and below that, spelt out “Online Community Group'. “<jungle> and its King, Hisui Nagare, operate almost solely through a social network known as JUNGLE.”

 

“That's its site?”

 

“Yes. To ordinary people unaware of the world of Kings and Clans, this is another SNS to log in to.” <jungle> organised every single one of its members by JUNGLE's name. Those normal, ordinary individuals, known as 'E-rank', were the lowest leveled members, and took up and completed missions, earning JUNGLE points and improving their rank, like an internet game turned into reality. Those who do rank up find themselves at 'L-rank', 'G-rank', so on, so forth, acquiring temporary powers.

 

Of course, that meant that the failure of the mission meant a loss of JP, and depending on the circumstances, they lose their powers altogether. When that happened, they could no longer be classified as supernatural cases, thus Scepter 4 could do nothing more than turn them over to normal police.

 

Kuroh narrowed his eyes. All this talk of ranks... “There must those who've received real power though.”

 

“The very few at the 'J-rank'.” The ones that know the face of their King, and received their power from him personally. That said, it was clear to anyone that Yukari Mishakuji was amongst those ranks. “Has he made any contact with you since your last encounter?”

 

Kuroh clenched his fist. “No.”

 

“What about the Silver King?”

 

“If he did, I wouldn't be here!”

 

“Did he mention anything about the Dresden Slate?”

 

“No.” Kuroh easily calmed himself down. “My time with Shiro after his memories returned... was too short.” Regardless, the memory of his near-drastic shift in personality was vivid. That stupid grin turned far more serious, even if his mannerisms remained undignified and far from any typical King. Shiro instantly took action against the Colourless King, and the most Kuroh could do was follow his only order, to leave and stay out of the clash between four Kings. There hadn't been any time for them to discuss the Slate. Although, that said, had something happened to the Slate?

 

In a self-assured tone, Munakata said nothing happened to it. “However, with the Gold King still missing, the safekeeping of the Slate rests with me. Had the Silver King left any information regarding it behind, I would have liked to know.”

 

Kuroh sighed. “Regarding the Slate, I can't be of any help...”

 

“Yet you seem to have something to say.”

 

Just before Munakata brought Shiro up, Kuroh did have something he wanted to bring up, related to <jungle>'s ranks. Yukari Mishakuji's position at 'J-rank' was common knowledge, but... “Regarding their ranks, are you aware of any other members within 'J-rank'? Or for that matter, the abilities they gain?”

 

Munakata shook his head. “That's being looked into. From the looks of it, something happened to prompt that question other than your own curiosity.”

 

“Just before we assisted Scepter 4 with the man's arrest, a girl with long hair and... 'snake-like' eyes appeared. She didn't look any older than Neko, and she was unarmed, but she was definitely a Clansman of <jungle>. She'd tampered with that other one's PDA and somehow revoked his powers through it, then shocked him so severely he passed out.”

 

“I suppose their higher ranking Clansmen wouldn't be concerned with the normal players, but that does sound rather dangerous. Were you able to get her name?”

 

“No.” It was useless asking her about <jungle>'s motives and need for Shiro, much less her name. The most he and Neko gathered from her was that she played video games during serious conversations, and she was so confident in her abilities that she claimed that handling Anna Kushina, the Red King, and the Blue King, would be child's play between her and Yukari Mishakuji's skill. She never intiated a fight against Kuroh or Neko, in fact, she strongly discouraged it, but that said, she had a peculiar ability.

 

“'Peculiar' how?”

 

“She, very literally, turned invisible,” Kuroh replied. Saying it aloud, it sounded ridiculous. One could assume it had something to do with their 'manipulation' of physics, but invisibility seemed too far-fetched.

 

Munakata glanced back at the screen of the JUNGLE site. “If I had to guess, I suppose you encountered a Strain. Very dangerous indeed, with an ability like that.” He sighed to himself. “I'm afraid I haven't had any reports regarding someone like her, but I'll be sure to look into it.”

 

At this point, that's the best any Clan can do without getting someone hurt. Kuroh headed to door. “Since that's all both of us have, I'd like to excuse myself.”

 

“Kuroh Yatogami.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“As I recall, the Silver Clan has no Domain to call its own.”

 

“And?”

 

“Given the situation, not having a base of operations must be inconvenient. If you'd like...” He held his hand out to Kuroh, smiling. “I offer Scepter 4's protection. You can take residence in our home base, and I promise protection should an emergency arise.”

 

Kuroh blinked, but his mind was long made up on such a matter. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.”

 

“My, how disappointing.” Contrasting his statement, Munakata's smile stayed in place. “You don't want to be under another Clan's influence? Or perhaps...” He drifted his focus to the plate of red bean paste, his easygoing countenance gone.

 

“That isn't it.” For one, Kuroh wasn't so easily influenced by others that it would somehow clash with his own loyalties, and he had some smidgen of hope that the lumpy substance was more edible than it looked, but, more importantly... “As of now, I already have...”

 

*******

 

_Hey, Shiro... come home soon, okay?_

 

*******

 

Through the red marble, the bar looked almost entirely red, but nonetheless, the marble gave a crisp, clear view of it.

 

Neko through her hands up. “That's no good! I can't see Shiro at all!”

 

“Are you sure that marble showed you the Silver King?”

 

Neko quickly adjusted herself on the couch next to Anna to shoot a sharp look at the man in sunglasses “I _did_ see Shiro! I looked into it and saw Shiro, and he looked just fine!” Anna had told her that before giving it to the Silver Clan, she'd infused it with some energy or whatever that would help them see the person they wanted to see the most. That 'person', naturally, was Shiro. Neko looked through it once more, a more disheartened look on her face “But since the first time, I haven't been able to see him at all.” She looked at Anna, who sat next to her, and smiled, scooting closer to her. “Hey, Anna, lemme see Shiro again!”

 

Shaking her head, Anna smiled softly. She explained that Neko wouldn't be able to always see Shiro, but she assured Neko that, through that little red marble, they were connected. And that that precious person might be looking at them as well.

 

“Really?” Excited, Neko waved into the marble, calling Shiro's name. “Shiro! Can you see me?”

 

Unbeknowst to Neko, HOMRA's vanguard stewed since she got there, and he finally reached his limit. “Hey, you! What's with acting like you belong here?! You're from a different Clan!”

 

During his whole tangent, Neko absently played with the tassels of her poncho. Frankly, that Boss Glasses guy kept trying to drag her and Kurosuke for questioning or whatever. There was no way Neko was gonna stick around for something like _that_.

 

From behind the bar, the big guy nodded to himself. “You escaped here for refuge, then?” It was a good idea. The Blues wouldn't be able to bother her in another Clan's domain.

 

“HOMRA isn't your safehouse, though!”

 

Okay but here's the thing: “I hate Boss Glasses! _And_ that Glasses Jerk! I don't _wanna_ go to the Blue Clan's place!”

 

“What happened to the Black Dog?” the big guy asked.

 

Smiling, Neko shrugged happily. “Dunno.”

 

“'Dunno'?”

 

“I'm not worried about Kurosuke.” Neko took the liberty of laying her head in Anna's lap with a chuckle. “I can always see him, even we're apart.” While speaking, she nuzzled the younger one's lap, and voiced her approval when Anna started stroking her head.

 

Coloured Glasses frowned. “For questioning, then? So even the Blues dunno what to do with the Greens.”

 

The calmer air surrounding HOMRA's core Clansmen disappeared, and all wore scowls.

“Creepy bunch,” the big guy said, “the city's crawling with Greens, but most of them are just normal people. It's near impossible to know who's actually a Clansman and who isn't!”

 

Coloured Glassed nodded. “People messing aroudn on their PDAs end up being connected to them. It's a pain in the ass.”

 

Yata furrowed his brow. “Think they'll try messing with Anna again?”

 

“She's a Red King now, it's gonna be harder for them to harass her.”

 

Anna nodded her agreement. “Even if they tried, I'll be fine,” she assured. Looking down at her hands, she smiled warmly. “I can fight them with my red. I won't lose.”

 

Although all thesy all had a point, Neko felt her mind drifting the entire exchange. It was true that most of those snot-green goons weren't even Clansmen, but Snake Eyes from earlier definitely was, and she seemed strong. And really, really creepy. Like some sorta ghost snake thing. And, when it came to stronger people, Kings had to use more power than normal, right?

 

“Anna, will you be okay? Kurosuke mentioned something about Red's power always being destined for destruction.” Neko sat up. “It's not like you going to go _kaboom!_ with the King's power... will you?”

 

The girl stared at Neko for a brief moment, but her smile soon returned. She hopped off the couch and ran over to the opposite wall covered in framed photos of Reds. The two most recurring people were their old King and the guy that got shot last year. “I'm not as strong as Mikoto, but I'll be just fine.” She looked back at her Clansmen with a smile. “And I'm not alone. Izumo, Rikio, Misaki... everyone at HOMRA. They're all at my side. So I'll be fine.”

 

Neko approved the girl's resolve greatly, and nodding as such. Anna was tiny, but she made up for that with her confidence and drive.

 

Clenching his fist, Yata took a deep breath, “I'll be there to protect you, Anna.” He had a firm expression, and had steady eye contact with Anna. “No matter what, I'll be someone you can rely on!”

 

Caught up in the energy flowing within the bar, Neko made her way to Anna, grinning ear to ear. She was sure of it, and happily told Anna she would be a-okay. “When we find Shiro, I'll bring him here. He's been a King for a _really_ long time, so he can teach you all sorts of things!”

 

“Yes,” Anna agreed, “I'd love to talk to him.”

 

Interrupting their conversation, Yata tried to make some point about Kings 'not meant to be so friendly with each other', but Neko scrunched her nose up and stopped listening soon after. He didn't even have a good reason as to why it was 'supposed' to be that way! “It's better to get along!” she declared. Of course, Anna agreed with her.

 

Neko didn't care much for tea, but the chocolate covered pancakes had her undivided attention. She immediately took a bite, and enjoyed the feel of warm food filling her stomach. “Y'know, Kurosuke made these the other day for me.” She set her fork down, and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, narrowing her eyes with a smile, a mild blush on her face. “He'd tell me things like 'Master Ichigen used to enjoy putting dark molasses on his pancakes.” With his constant lectures, Kurosuke could get a little annoying, but Neko really did love his cooking. Coloured Glass' food was good too, though.

 

“Dark molasses, huh?” Coloured Glasses hummed to himself in a low voice, an amused look on his face. “Neko, you like Kuroh, right?”

 

What a weird question. Neko swayed side to side on the couch, and stared at the ceiling, hoping for some inspiration as to how to answer Coloured Glasses' question. Of course, Shiro came first in Neko's world, but... after that... hmm... well, she liked him the most after fish, she guessed.

 

“Neko.” Anna sat on the couch across from her. “Why don't you and Kuroh live here? Until Yashiro returns. It's safer here.”

 

"That's right, you guys wouldn't have a territory since your King left before it could be set up," Yata commented.

 

Neko looked at the two of them, wide-eyed. The offer came out of nowhere, and leaving the dormitory was unthinkable to Neko. It wasn't ever something that she considered or thought of. Not even Kurosuke brought it up. She looked down, and knew that, technically, the Silver Clan didn't have what the rest of the Clans called a “Domain” since Shiro wasn't around to establish one.

 

Yata shifted back and forth where he stood. “...sorry.”

 

A territory.  A Domain.  Somewhere that a King's Clansmen resided and stayed with each other in comfort.  If it were a place like that... “It's okay,” Neko muttered. Yeah, that dormitory... “It's fine!” She looked up, her smile returning. Because of that domitory, she already...

 

*******

 

The cat who lost the only family she knew. The dog whom death followed. They'd both knew the pain of loss and loneliness, and found a place the King who stood by them for such a brief, important time in their lives. As much as they quarreled, they found solace in one another.

 

*******

 

After her visit to HOMRA, Neko eventually left, and it didn't take long for her to track Kurosuke down. She bounded towards him, calling out his name. The dog stopped and asked where she'd been.

 

“I didn't want to see Boss Glasses, so I hid at Anna's place.”

 

Kurosuke ran a hand through his hair. “You're serious?”

 

Of course she was! Instead of answering, Neko closely hugged him. She took the marble from her shorts pocket and held it up for Kuroh. “This marble can't always show Shiro, but Anna said it really _is_ connected to him! And that Shiro might be watching _us_ , too!”

 

Kurosuke's calm slate turned into a smile. “Is that so?”

 

“Yeah!” Neko nodded. “Everything's gonna be okay, so let's go home!”

 

Quietly taking in her speech, Kurosuke closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he started to pat Neko's hair. “You're right. Let's go home, to where we belong."

 

To that place full of memories belonging to the both of them.

 


	4. Ken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again too tired to run this through my beta-readers but on the bright side. Seri Awashima.

Just before Kuroh left, he crossed the path of a black cat with a bell on its collar. The cat wasted no time in approaching him, and he obliged its want for attention without fuss, kneeling down to scratch its ears and head. While petting the cat, a deep voice said his name, and, now, he faced a tall, tanned man with glasses and a large scar on his face The uniform he wore wasn't Scepter 4's standard one, and he tied the left sleeve into a knot up near his shoulder. When Kuroh responded to his call, he seemed briefly surprised, but smiled amicably soon after.

 

“I was calling the cat there.”

 

“Ah...” Kuroh picked the cat up. “As in the colour black. Sorry.” He placed the cat in the man's harm, and the cat mewed his approval, perfectly content. It was a simple scene, but Kuroh nonetheless could appreciate its peaceful mood. Further behind, he noticed Scepter 4's lieutenant approaching. Judging by the look on her face, she had some important business she and the other Clansman needed to tend to. Bowing, Kuroh told the man he'd be on his way.

 

“Wait, Kuroh Yatogami.” The authorative tone of Seri Awashima's voice stopped the young man in his tracks. “I have to speak to Zenjo over something important, but I'd like to give you something before you leave.”

 

She held up a plastic bag full of different foods, and sifting through the bag, it was soon apparent that all of these were ingredients meant to prepare red bean paste.

 

 _She just had a mixture of it on her person?_ Kuroh continued to inspect the bag's contents, as if weighing his options of accepting Awashima's offer versus politely declining. In the end, he gave her a short bow. “Thank you. I've been trying to find different things to prepare for meals.” Given Neko's finicky tastes, having a broadened horizon was always something to be thankful for. Hopefully the paste's texture isn't too out of her liking.

 

***

  
The woman who faithfully worked as a Blue King's right hand. The man who faithfully worked as a Blue King's right hand.

 

One feared the threat of her King's downfall. The other braced himself.

 

***  
Sitting across from Seri, Zenjo casually took a handful of red bean paste and ate it. When he'd finished, he asked how he could help her. Seri's posture was perfectly upright, and her voice strong. “I'd like to discuss something... not as the lieutenant, but as an individual.” To speak to the right-hand man of the former Blue King, Jin Habari – the man previously known as the 'Demon', Goki Zenjo.

 

The nickname must have caught Zenjo off guard, and his more relaxed stature slightly stiffened. “I'm afraid I won't be of much help.”

 

“You are the only one Captain Munakata personally recruited from the previous King's Clan.”

 

“And now I'm merely a clerk in the Documents Office.”

 

Unswayed, Seri continued. “14 years ago... when Genji Kagutsu's Sword of Damocles fell due the instability of his own Weismann levels, you'd lost your left arm. From what I've heard, the change of Japan's topography would have been far more disastrous without your involvement. The entire archipelago could have been lost.” The Damocles Down's impact severely threatened Jin Habari's own Damocles Down, yet his right-hand was there to slay him on the spot before things could get any worse.

 

“That is correct.”

 

Admittedly, Seri felt she got ahead of herself. The past was the past. As of now, what Seri wanted to know was if Zenjo noticed any sort of changes in his late King before his Sword of Damocles began to deteriorate.

 

“You're worried about the Captain, aren't you?” Zenjo asked. Seri neglected to answer, staring at Zenjo and meeting a tired, far-off look in the man's eyes. “His Sword of Damocles is damaged, and there's others who've already noticed.” As he kept talking, Seri looked down. “Have you noticed any changes, yourself?”

 

Truthfully, the Captain was himself in general. Nothing drastically changed about him. It was just... since he took charge of Mihashira Tower, he spent more and more of his time in the Dresden Slate's Chamber. Every time he entered, Seri sensed some sort of change within him. It could be that the Slate had that sort of effect on anyone near it, and that it wasn't anything abnormal, or simply just the weight of its power and influence over Kings and Clans triggered some sort of sense of silent urgency in him, but, to Seri, it really felt like something more was going on with the Captain.

 

It worried her. Not only that, but to bring Zenjo into Scepter 4 like this. Almost like he was willing to replicate the past if the worst-case scenario came to be.

 

Zenjo backed out of his chair. “You're his right-hand, I am not.”

 

Thus she had no reason to worry about Zenjo's role in this.

 

“Miss Awashima, than you for the refreshment. It's been awhile since I've had something so sweet.”

 

Left to her own thoughts, Seri lost her thoughts watching speckles of dust float in the sunlight. For once, that sweet food held none of her interest. Her mind was elsewhere, in a hazy, blue fog.

 


	5. Kite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 3. Lengthy chapter tbh. Changed a good deal towards the end.

Six people resided in a small, green-hued flat. The flat's design wasn't much. Much of the furniture was old and distressed, and the space was rather cramped with just two people in it, let alone six. On the couch, Yukari reclined back and filed his nails, his own personal vanity set just across from him with his beauty supplies organised on it. Right behind it was a low, round table, where Sukuna sat playing with a remote-controlled airplane, its buzzing filling the flat.

 

“HOMRA reacted just as I expected, and those Blues went out, too!” he boasted, “and earlier, Akina started provoking and freaking out the Silver Clan!”

 

Listening to the boy, the first thing Yukari noted was how well his nails came along. On the couch's headboard, Kotosaka absently observed the two.

 

Sukuna went on. “The more and more Clans getting involved, the more fun the games get.”

 

“How pretty.” It was more a comment towards his nails, but Yukari had listened to Sukuna's bragging. “Clans causing trouble for other Clans will force Scepter 4 to dispatch more of their personnel to quell any incidents.” He looked back at his nails, nicely filed and smoothed. “Involving even HOMRA isn't a bad idea.” Although, that little game of Sukuna's he made to provoke the Red King, exploiting the deceased like that, was rather unattractive.

 

Sukuna ceased playing with the airplane, and now the sound of someone running a vacuum cleaner took over. Uninterested in both, Sukuna stuck his nose up. “I don't care about your aesthetics, Yukari.” That smug look returned. “The Blue's Sword has a bigger crack in than the last time I saw it.”

 

“That's good to know,” Yukari replied, “and how's Kuroh?” He glimpses behind him, where Akina sat on the kitchen counter. Below, the messy, black-haired friend of hers sat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest with his head buried in his knees. “You especially had some interaction with.”

 

Sukuna shrugged and sighed through his nose. “Kuroh Yatogami? He didn't look as strong as you make him out to be, Yukari.” He narrowed his eyes, leaning over a bit with a suspicious expression. “Is he really your kid brother?”

 

“Not really.” It was just that the two of them spent a short time together under Ichigen Miwa's mentorship. “And your verdict, Akina?”

 

Instead of meeting Yukari's look, Akina pulled out her handheld console and turned it on, soon immersed in whatever game she got her hands on this time. “He was nothing special.”

 

“Enough chatter.” The vaccum's revving cut off, and a gruff, aged voiced told the three conversers to quit their small talk. In his specially designed, JUNGLE mascot apron-wearing and beer can holding glory, Iwa stared Sukuna down. “Did you get the detergent like I asked?”

 

Sukuna reached for a plastic bag and stood up, responding to Iwa's authority with a sour look. “I wish you'd stop asking me to do your stupid chores, I'm always busy.” He stomped to Iwa, and shoved the bag into his chest. “And yeah, I _did_ get it!”

 

The minute Iwa got the plastic bag, his frown deepened. “I told you to get the one with softener!”

 

Kotosaka launched from the couch, and flapped his wings, flying over Sukuna, making a point that the child knew he messed up his little errand. For a second, it seemed Sukuna was too busy scowling at Iwa to care about Kotosaka's antics, but he snapped, and waved his fist in the air, trying to hit the bird. “Damned bird! Shut up!” Being the sort that never stays in one place for too long, he soon gave up, pulling out his own handheld console and sitting down in front of the small, outdated television set. “Anyway, when do we get to try something new? I'm tired of giving out all these missions to low-ranked members.”

 

Sukuna was right. Things were getting a bit stale, as far as this game went, and it really needed some sort of spark. The Silver King remained missing, which was frustrating enough, so the missing spark wasn't appreciated.

 

“Is the Silver King even alive?” Sukuna asked, “though, talking about some guy who spent 70 years in some blimp in the sky... running and hiding must be his speciality.”

 

“If you're the very top or bottom of the Kings' hierarchy, reclusion seems a popular habit,” Akina added.

 

“However, he descended one year ago...This is his second coming.” The deep, unexpected voice cut into the conversation with a calm, even tone, and prompted his Clansmen turn to face him. In that elaborate, silver wheelchair, the restrained Green King sat. “I wish to meet the Silver King, The First King to discover the mystery of the Slate.” A distant longing decorated his face, yet hardly any light gleamed in that blue eye of his.

 

Yukari laughed through his nose. Nagare spoke oft he Eternal King, contrasting Nagare's Ever-changing. Nagare had almost zero hopes of any common traits between himself and the Silver King. He could very well be the biggest obstacle <jungle> must inevitably face.

 

“Save your breath,” Iwa laughed, “once he sets his mind on something, there's no changing it.”

 

_So be it._ Yukari sat upright on the couch, smiling lightly. In the end, Nagare had the liberty of doing whatever he wanted. “I'm just interested in seeing if the new world you create is a beautiful one or not.”

 

Sukuna shot up. “I'm up for any game Nagare comes up with!” He pointed to himself. “That's why we're all here, as <jungle>'s players – the Green Clan!”

 

A truly moving sentiment, but it fell in the air without a significant response from the Green King himself. A screen popped up, and the faces of the Silver King's former Clansmen played. By the time anyone actually spoke, Sukuna went off to play that little game he made.

 

Iwa spoke, “Those are the ones you're obsessed with, right? Are you that concerned?”

 

“Yes, I am,” Nagare affirmed, “the Silver Clansman are associating with the Blue King Reisi Munakata, and the Red King Anna Kushina.” The contact Akina properly referred to as a 'triumverate'. Definitely something to be concerned about.

 

Iwa took a quick gulp from his cheap alcohol. “You think the Silver King is pulling the strings with the associations?”

 

Before Nagare had a chance to affirm or deny, Yukari interjected. “A flower bud is pretty, but a bud that falls before it blooms... is far more beautiful.” Still occupying the couch, he applied his usual supplies carefully, admiring himself in the mirror. To him, an alliance was possible, but it being possible wouldn't matter if they just prevented such a troublesome matter.

 

Kotosaka flapped his wings and yelled in a scratchy voice. “Nip the bud! Nip the bud!”

 

Exactly. 'Nip the bud', that was the plan. Ayamachi at hand, Yukari stood up.

 

Iwa scoffed. “What're you blabbing aboutn now?” The refined metaphor went over Iwa's head, and he resorted to drinking from his can once more.

 

“For once, Okita here makes sense,” Akina commented, “he's just saying to kill them off.”

 

Yukari narrowed his eyes, expecting Nagare to elaborate this 'mission' of his, but now out of dislike. In fact, he'd more than happy to pick up where he and Kuroh left off back in October. He tapped Ayamachi on his shoulder. “Perhaps this is fate.”

 

Sukuna looked away from his game. “If it's Kuroh Yatogami we're after, I'm coming to. Yukari and I are split as to whether he's weak or strong.” Now, they'll know in black and white. “Akina, you should come, you can prove Yukari wrong too.”

 

With an aged laugh, Iwa sat down with another gulp of his drink. “'Black and white'? Was that a pun on Kuroh's name? For a kid, you're pretty funny, Sukuna.”

 

A GAME OVER screen flashed on the TV screen, the former Red King and his vassal's body on the floor. “I really hate it when you say things like that, Iwa,” Sukuna warned. He got dimissive laughter in response. It gave him the motivation to tear himself away from the game. Putting his jacket on, he addressed Akina once more, urging her to tag along.

 

After a moment's silence, Akina hopped off the counter and tapped Shiki's head. “I'm going. You know where to head.”

 

Ever silent, Shiki slowly stood up, and, not waiting for anyone else's unput, walked out the base to his undisclosed destination. He walked rigidly, his hands hidden by the excessively long sleeves of his winter coat.

 

“Weirdo...” Sukuna remarked, “Akina, where's he's going?”

 

“Don't worry about it, Sukuna.” Akina dismissed his curiosity like it was a buzzing fly, and she was the first one out the door. She left a trail of ice with every word, increasing the distance between her comrades and herself. The only hint of them vaguely growing on her was her sudden use of Sukuna's given name.

 

Unsatisfied, Sukuna repeated his question, this time in a firmer tone.

 

“Sukuna, you see everyone else minding their own business?” Akina asked. As if scolding a rude sibling, she rose her voice, pausing outside the base without even looking back at Sukuna. “Take note.”

 

Only half-heartedly listening to the jumbled exchange, Yukari quietly laughed to himself, just slightly turning to Sukuna. “Are you ready to nip the bud?”

 

Although somewhat disheartened by Akina's sharp attitude, Sukuna hurriedly grabbed for his staff, sporting an energetic smile. “Sure!” Without fail, the thought of causing an uproar refueled his enthusiasm.

 

“I forgot one thing, Yukari.” Nagare waited for Yukari to face him before continuing. “It's okay to kill Kuroh Yatogami... but bring Miyabi Ameno back alive.”

 

Ah, that one? Yukari paused. “May I ask why?”

 

“Because we're similar.”

 

The dark-voiced King being 'similar' to that one, sure. “I see... Understood, milord.” Yukari nodded, and with Sukuna closely following, he left.

 

***

The two left alone in the flat sat briefly in silence, each taking in the King's orders. Soon, Iwahune finally spoke up, questioning Nagare's odd decision to act so quickly. Or, better put, his behaviour of rushing into things.

 

“You're correct, Mr. Iwa.” The Green King _was_ in a rush, losing his patience, and found himself fixated on the other King's image as it appeared on his screen. If Adolf K. Weismann, the Silver King, had any intention of participating in this game, he wouldn't sit back and watch his own subjects die. So then, with such risks, would he run away again? Would he stay? Today, that answer would be known. Finally, a smile appeared. The answer to his question, he couldn't wait to find it out.

 

***  
In a certain dorm the Silver Clansmen ate. Unlike at HOMRA or Scepter 4, both of them felt perfectly at place here. As soon as they had returned, Neko discarded her poncho on the bed, and sat down on her red cushion at the table. She'd kept her turtleneck on, mostly because Kuroh would throw another fit if she didn't, and, because, he somehow was smart enough to get her one that super soft, and not as tight as it initially looked. She could move and breathe in it, thus, it was at least on the tolerable side.

  
Neko pulled out the red marble and carefully put it on a cushion on the table, and clapped her hands together with closed eyes. As she often did, she calmly relayed to Shiro that she and Kuroh were doing fine, so he didn't have to worry... Absently, she tapped her chopsticks against her cup, which, for whatever reason, prompted Kuroh to scold her for being “disrespectful”. In turn, she flinched, and pouted at Kuroh. She wanted Shiro to eat, too, so why was he so upset?

 

Just barely, Kuroh relaxed. “Fine, but eat your own meal first.”

 

“Mmmm... fine.”

 

The two clapped in unison, and gave their thanks for their meal. They agreed that the fish wasn't bad. There was a staggering, but not surprising, difference in their eating pace. Kuroh's dish almost looked untouched, whereas Neko was more than halfway done with hers already.

 

“By the way...” With a rice bowl in his hand, Kuroh looked around their room. “This place is getting pretty crowded with stuff.”

 

Neko paused, chewing on the end of the chopstick.

 

“Yeah...” She finished and swallowed. “Every time we go looking for Shiro, we manage to bring things back that remind us of him.”

 

As in a lucky cat statue, a tanuki statue, about three balls, a statue of a black and white spotted cat curled up, one of those rice hats, a stuffed teddy bear, a miniature structure of a traditional Japanese palace, a purple umbrella with a red tip, one of those rice paddy hats, several boxes and bags of countless other things... Neko soon lost interest in observing their surroundings, digging into the rice in her cat paw bowl.

 

“Well, this is our base of operations while we're searching for Shiro,” Kuroh said, “where could he be wandering around?”

 

“I dunno.” Neko picked up the last bits of her fish, only the head remaining. “But maybe he's not that far at all.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

Cheerfully, Neko swallowed the last bits of meat. “I just do~!” Feline intuition.

 

Kuroh lowered his rice bowl. “So it has nothing to do with reasoning.” Once more, he looked around their room. “I suppose that's what it means... to have faith.”

 

Slowly, he smiled as well.

 

***  
  
“Hey.” Yata's tired greeting was all he felt he needed to do upon entering HOMRA, waving to Kusanagi and sitting down on a bar stool. “I finally kicked out every single one of the Greens who snuck into Shizume.” he sighed, “Those guys are like cockroaches!”

 

“It's impossible to get rid of them all, even for you, Yata.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Kusanagi stared at his PDA. “The fact that we can't tell them apart is what makes the Greens so special.”

 

“I know that!” If by special Kusanagi meant 'a pain in the ass to deal with'. “I meant the ones causing trouble.” Yata looked at the PDA. “Anyway, what're you doing?”

 

Giving a triumphant laugh, Kusanagi showed Yata his PDA. On it, the excessively green homepage for JUNGLE loaded. “Like they say, 'If you know your enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles'.” He tapped through the site, proudly smiling. Apparently, he was curious about how <jungle> operated, so he spied on the JUNGLE site with a disposable PDA. He clicked something specific, and the app made an affirming noise. “Look what I found.”

 

A holographic image popped up,, showing Yata's face behind a red background. Underneath his image was his name and HOMRA's name. was text saying '3000JP'. It was, in every way, a wanted poster. A bounty.

 

“If they get you,” Kusanagi said, “they get those bonus points, and the more they get, the higher they'll rank up in the Greens' ranks.”

 

Such news would disconcert any other person, but as far as Yata saw it, that just meant that the Greens rightfully saw Yatagarasu as the threat he was. Yata overheard Kusanagi's PDA beep again, and it naturally caught his attention.

 

The Monkey had 4000JP to his name.

 

That's _1000JP_ more than him.

 

What the hell.

 

Still calm, Kusanagi made a point of telling Yata that while his niche was combat, the Monkey was skilled in info-gathering. For the Clan <jungle>, that must have been more of a threat. Before Yata could make more of a spectacle of it, small footsteps tapped down the stairs, and Anna appeared.

 

Yata turned to her from where he sat. “Anna, what's up?”

 

“I got something that I want to give Neko. I'm taking it to her now.” She started to walk off, but Yata hopped from the bar stool, holding his hand out.

 

“Lemme have it!” He smiled. “I'll give it to her.” Anna looked ready to protest, but Yata insisted. To him, a King shouldn't have to go around running errands on their own. Anna was his Red King, and like he said, he'd be there to lend her a hand whenever possible.

 

Anna brightened, and dug into her dress pocket. “Misaki, thank you.” In her hand dangled a small, glass bottle attached to a silver chain. Upon further inspection, along with the small bottle, the chain had small charms of a cat, dog bone, and umbrella, all silver in colour.

 

Yata held it up. “What's this?”

 

“It's a necklace,” Anna said, “Neko can put the marble in the bottle. So it'd be easier to hold and not lose.” As for the charms, she just thought that it'd be nice to add something to represent the Silver Clan.

 

To Yata, the charms honestly looked like miniature pet tags, but he felt it better to keep that to himself. He put the necklace in his pocket, giving Anna an assuring smile. “Is this it? I'll be back soon.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don't mention it.” Yata waved goodbye to Anna and Kusanagi, closing the bar's door behind him.

 

***  
  
Many Ashinaka High School students had involvement in the JUNGLE app, so it made entering it for J-Ranks a much easier process. It meant Yukari was able to get right down to informing his younger peers that they weren't to interfere. As expected, Akina took it in stride, but Sukuna wasn't as agreeable, and although Yukari just explained his reasoning, the boy kept pressing him.

 

It was a very, very simple thing: Kuroh was his junior when they were pupils under Ichigen. Yukari had a duty - no, it was destiny - for him to kill Kuroh himself. To anyone who interfered, he wouldn't show mercy. Not even to Sukuna.

 

The way Sukuna backed away was a good sign he'd comply.

 

“If you want the points, I'll give them to you for free.” All of them because Akina didn't seem that interested one way or another. Seeing as the former kept walking, Yukari walked away from Sukuna. As long as he listened and didn't get in Yukari's way, all would be well.

 

In a whiny tone, Sukuna asked what the fun was in getting free points. It wasn't the way games worked. His phone chimed, and Gojo slowed to a halt to pull his device out, reading the notification on screen. A smirk broke onto his face. “Yukari, all right! I'll leave him to you!”

 

Yukari knew that the boy rarely stayed on one task for too long, but to drop an argument and mission this quickly was strange. “And you?”

 

Sukuna waved dismissively with his staff. “Something urgent came up, so take care of Kuroh Yatogami, will you?” With that, he ran off, totally over not being able to fight against Kuroh, almost like he forgot about that. He happily ran through the school's gate after one of its students lent him his PDA so he could leave, and thanked him, too.

 

The girl closed her eyes, making her expression unreadable, but it was safe to assume she weighed her options before coming up with an answer. “In the end, I think it best that the two former Clansmen of the weakest, lowest King clash against one another, both hoping for the return of the Eternal, First King.”

 

“You don't seem the type that enjoys symbolism.” Yukari soon caught up to her at his own pace. She didn't seem the type for a lot of things, let alone joining a Clan in general. “ _'Boulder in the lake, what a tiresome act, no? Embrace your nature'_.” It fit her perfectly.

 

Akina's stony face faltered, and she failed to resist the urge to sigh and ceased facing him. “I wish I could skip your cutscenes... memorising poems of the dead... it's creepy.”

 

***  
Sukuna went back to humming that old tune he always defaulted to when nothing in particular caught his interest. Soon, something would, given the fact that the No. 3s of both Scepter 4 and HOMRA were somewhere loitering on the island. Yukari may have forbidden Sukuna's involvement in fighting Kuroh Yatogami, but dealing with those two would be a piece of cake he could indulge in to his liking.

 

It wouldn't be as fun a fight, of course - but it was better than having to stand around on the sidelines like Akina would be stuck doing. In retrospect, he should probably have invited her to come along, make it a bit of a competition to see who got the points and who didn't based on whoever wiped the floor with their targets first. He hadn't seen how Akina fought yet, either, and given how she was always unarmed, she must have had a pretty cool technique to compensate for that.

 

Sukuna smirked. “Hmph, there's always next time.” Maybe next time they'd be able to face off the two Clans' second in commands. And Sukuna can get back at Yukari for keeping him from fighting Kuroh by keeping him from fighting the second in commands. It'd serve him right.

 

He overheard what sounded like some loudmouth yelling his lungs out, and spotted some guy not wearing a uniform with a beanie yelling at a bored-looking Blue.

 

Misaki Yata. Saruhiko Fushimi. There they were.

 

Sukuna poised himself, channeling <jungle>'s Aura through the staff into a green, pulsing scythe blade. If the short one was so desperate to yell at someone and not watch his back, then that made Sukuna's mission less tedious.

 

Fushimi ignored Yata's ranting, and tossed a dagger right at Sukuna's feet (only after Yata had the sense to dodge it himself).

 

So one was smart enough to pay some attention. That made the game all the more interesting. “Darn, there goes my back-attack.”

 

Yata finally turned around and noticed him. “Who the hell are you?”

 

As if Sukuna had any obligation to answer him.

 

“You're one of <jungle>'s top players, Sukuna Gojo,” Fushimi stated.

 

Ah, so they knew of him? No wonder he was worth more than Beanie over there. Bringing the two of them down was a 7000JP mission, what Sukuna calls a sweet mission. Sukuna prepped the scythe on his shoulder briefly, and quickly moved in to attack.

 

“So do me a favour!”

 

Turn into his points!

  
***

“Kuroh! I've been looking for you?”

 

Alright. “Kukuri, what is it?”

 

For whatever reason, Kukuri seemed a bit bashful. “It's not me, I actually brought someone who wants to talk to you.”

 

Kuroh looked to Neko for some clue as to what was going on, but Neko seemed just as clueless. He watched Kukuri tug a girl with wavy brown hair over, and, frankly, Kuroh didn't recognise her, so he didn't see a way for her to need anything from him. With a stutter, the stranger asked him to accept a pink envelope. The minute Kuroh took it, she ran away.

 

“I wonder what's inside?” True to her name, Neko was curious about the envelope's contents. “Let's open it!”

 

“Sure...” Honestly, what was going on? Kuroh really had no recollection of that girl just now, so getting a letter seemed out of place.

 

There was a reason for that.

 

“So, her name was Yukari?” Kukuri asked.

 

She was incorrect. Entirely so. This handwriting, there was no mistaking it, it was Yukari Mishakuji's. So even Ashinaka students got themselves tangled into this Clan.

 

'Will await you at the bridge.'

  
  
***  
  
Kuroh's expression darkened the moment Yukari's name appeared on the letter. He could tell Neko disliked it just as much, and she insisted on sticking to him their entire way to the bridge. The minute Kuroh spotted _him_ , his mood worsened. To make things worse, alongside him sat the girl from the other day. The both of them stood on one of the bridge's towers, with that stupid bird on the Yukari's shoulder. The moment it spotted Neko and Kuroh, the Green King's medium fluttered away, a few feathers falling down in front of them.

 

“It's been a while, Kuroh,” Yukari greeted greeted.

 

Unmoved, Kuroh demanded to know what it was he wanted. They'd long since moved past half-hearted reminiscing. The place for that was no more.

 

Instead of an answer, Yukari chose the route of avoiding the subject. “It's not at all refined to ask questions you already know the answer to, Kuroh.” He reached for his sword, and pointed it down right at Kuroh.

 

Kuroh looked at Neko.

 

“Kurosuke, what?”

 

“Get somewhere safe.”

 

Neko bristled in protest. There was no way she'd--

 

“Neko!” He didn't want to yell at her, but it'd hopefully be the one way she'd listen to him for once.

 

Her bristling ceased, and, reluctantly, Neko complied, Shiro's umbrella in her hand.

Kuroh refused to remove his eyes from those two, but when Neko's bells stopped jingling, he took it as a sign she'd found a safe spot to watch from. Attention on Yukari Mishakuji, Kuroh calmly gripped Kotowari's hilt. “So you're here to settle things?”

 

“Wasting my time with obvious answers...” the man smoothly whipped his sword through the air, and bright, hot pink ribbons of his Aura cut through the air and towards Kuroh.

 

Kuroh successfully dodged that initial attack, and when Yukari lunged through the smoke, blade thrust forward, he had just enough time to deflect the second onslaught with Kotowari. It was a back and forth effort of them clashing swords against another, until finally Yukari flipped Ayamachi around for some pointless reason, ending them in a stalemate with neither sword hitting them.

 

“As I suspected, you still lack in skill, Kuroh.” His smug look never failed. “However, I commend you for not running away.”

 

“This school is the place my King, Shiro, calls home! You'll never set foot in this place!”

 

Yukari retracted his sword and shoved Kuroh away, though it only took but a second for his junior to continue the assault. Through the loud clashing of steel on steel, Yukari spoke, casually, as if it was just another discussion. “That's too bad.” Effortlessly, tirelessly, blocking and parrying every single attack Kuroh set loose. “My comrade's already infiltrated it.” He went for Kuroh's neck, when that was dodged, Kuroh felt the hilt of Ayamachi slam right into his chest and sent him rolling across the pavement.

 

“Don't bully Kurosuke!” Kuroh heard a familiar ringing of bells, and before he could blink, a huge, massive tiger statue erupted from the ground with a deep, guttural growl.

 

Undeterred, Yukari made a series of unnecessary spins before his Aura slashed straight down the tiger's middle, the force of the strike knocking Neko back. The strain found herself slammed back against the bridge's guard rail, Shiro's umbrella ripped from her grasp and hurled far, far into the air.

 

“Neko!”

 

“Don't worry.” Ayamachi cut between Kuroh's view of the girl, but Yukari's attention was totally on Neko. “My King's requested you be brought back to his presence unharmed, Neko.” He shook his head slightly. “No... I should say, Miyabi Ameno.”

 

***

 

_'Miyabi Ameno'?_

 

Neko propped herself up by the railing, trying to ignore the pain from the Sparkly Jerk's attack. Ameno? It didn't ring any bells.

 

“Who's that?”

 

What _almost_ resembled sympathy crossed the Sparkly Jerk's face. “You don't remember? Well, it doesn't matter.”

 

Remember? Remember what? What was he talking about? Who was Miyabi Ameno? She couldn't remember someone she never met! Further, why did it stir such an awful feeling in her chest? Her head? Like static. Fuzzy, loud static. It overwhelmed her ears with its loud crinkling.

 

“Don't you dare lay a hand on my friend!”

 

The sound subsided at Kurosuke's voice. He ran straight for the Sparkly Jerk, but the second he struck, the guy evaded easily. Laughing, he managed to jump his way up the bridge's tower without any trouble. Kurosuke followed after, and soon both of them were too far for Neko to hear anything other than their swords crashing against eachother. The longer they fought, the higher up the tower they ran. Although she couldn't hear him, she was sure the Sparkly Guy was mocking Kurosuke the entire way, until the both of them jumped to the top of the tower. Kurosuke stayed in the air longer, utilising his spatial hand to try and finally wipe the Sparkly Guy out, but the latter just... kept dodging without any trouble, like he was some fly that was near impossible to squish.

 

Instead of helping the Sparkly Jerk, Snake-Eyes quickly moved out of the way o Kurosuke's spatial hand, calmly jumping off the tower and leaving the two swordsmen to their own devices.

 

Snake-Eyes landed right next to Neko. “A word of advice,” Her voice was quiet. “If you want to do illusions to deter enemies, make them subtle, and don't yell before doing them.” She looked up to the top of the bridging, closely watching the former Colourless Clansmen clash swords. The clanging of metal filled her silence. “Yukari... he's skilled, but he's not invincible.”

 

Neko stood up, ignoring the rising soreness on her body and eyeing Snake-Eyes down. She didn't get why Snake-Eyes gave her the advice.

 

With a spin of her heels, Snake-Eyes flipped her hair. “Miyabi Ameno. Neko. Whichever one, I don't care. But don't make me think that the fixation on you isn't worth the trouble it puts me through.” She leaned against one of the bridge's railing, more focused on the fight than on Neko.

 

'Miyabi Ameno'.

 

_'Miyabi Ameno'._

 

That fuzzy name again. It tugged something weird in Neko's mind, like taut rubber bands ready to snap. It constrained _something_. Her brain? Her heart? She couldn't tell. Ameno. Who was that? Were these people mixing her up with someone else? Her name was Neko. Neko. Not Miyabi Ameno. So why did they keep bringing that weird, fuzzy name up? Subconsciously, Neko tried tightening her grip around Shiro's umbrella, but remembered watching it fly away in the wind earlier. It wasn't with her anymore.

 

_...Shiro._

 

Lost in her thoughts, the loud crash and ripping of pavement caught her off guard. She whipped around, seeing Kuroh struggling to stay upright on his knees with a tight grip around his sword. The Sparkly Jerk hadn't broken a sweat, walking as elegantly and carefree as ever with his own sword at hand.

 

“About time,” Snake-Eyes yawned, “he sure takes his precious time with a simple task...” Her voice trailed off, and she sighed in exasperation at the sight of Kuroh using his spatial hand to get distance from Yukari. Snake-Eyes crossed her arms. “Honestly...” She shook her head, and put a foot against the railing. Briefly, she disappeared in a flash of lightning, and reappeared in front of Kurosuke, who, despite being surprised by her interruption, quickly adapted to swiping at her with his sword.

 

Yukari stroked his chin with an amused smile. “My... what an impatient person you are, Akina.”

 

“You're taking too long. I won't kill him, so don't try anything.” Akina was casual in her response, but careful to avoid Kurosuke's attacks. Her boots were weird, and had to be made out of some material or whatever that could afford being stuck with a sword a lot without getting so much as damaged. From the looks of it, they were on more equal ground than Kurosuke and Yukari were. When they dodged the other's attack, one eventually landed on the other. A lot of the time, Snake-Eyes would cheat and go invisible, landing a kick behind Kurosuke or at his side. Snake-Eyes moved just like her name, a snake, fluid and powerful, flipping around like there wasn't a bone in her body.

 

Honestly, how was he falling for that? “Kurosuke!” She wasn't entirely sure if Kurosuke was paying attention, but she knew for a fact her voice was easy to here. “Stop being stupid! You can see her reflection in your sword!” Back in the alley, Neko noticed that, even when Snake-Eyes went invisible, it was possible to see her shadow on the ground or her actual reflection on metal materials. So if Kurosuke paid attention he could easily stop getting kicked around like a football.

 

Kurosuke must have heard her. The minute Snake-Eyes disappeared again, he stopped watching his sides, keeping his eyes on the ground. Impatient, Neko yelled at him that the girl was to his left. The moment he paid attention, Snake-Eyes reappeared, narrowly dodging Kurosuke's sword, who in turn used the J-rank's momentary confusion to his advantage. Quickly, he grabbed her by the arm, and cleanly crouched down to flip the girl over him and slammed her flat on her back on the pavement.

 

“Oho?” the Sparkly Jerk laughed, “things got more interesting, just now.” He ran a hand through his stringy hair, just standing back and watching the two fight. “You have good instincts, Ameno.”

 

Snake-Eyes saying that name was bad enough, and it grated Neko to no end, but when this guy said it, it was absolutely venomous. Again, Neko hesitantly asked him who that was.

 

“Like I said earlier, if you don't remember, it doesn't matter.” He pointed his sword over at the other two. “The outcome, I wonder what's in store.”

 

Snake-Eyes stayed on the ground for a good while, with Kurosuke keeping his sword directed her even when she started to sit up, unfazed by the sword in front of her face. With a ripple, she disappeared, and Kurosuke quickly braced his sword, but an odd weight to it appeared, and he acted as if it got heavier. Lightning creeped around it, soon growing in intensity until, with a bright light, it cracked loudly and sent Kurosuke flying against one of the pillars. Somehow, he managed to keep a grip on his sword, but remnants of the lightning kept curling around it.

 

When she reappeared, Snake-Eyes' hands were clearly bleeding from shallow wounds, and she wiped most of the blood off on her shorts. She returned to her emotionless, robotic self, and looked over at the Sparkly Jerk, pointing at Kurosuke. “He was your mission. Finish it. I didn't interfere with you killing him, so don't point that piece of junk at me, Yukari.”

 

The Sparkly Jerk eyed her narrowly, tracing his sword's hilt slowly. A smile crept onto his face. “You're so unrefined, Akina.” He waved his sword in front of her. “I really suggest you enlist the use of a weapon. You can't go slicing your hands like that every time. A sword would be best.”

 

“I don't know how to use one.”

 

“I wouldn't mind teaching you the art of swordsmanship.”

 

The girl curled her lip and wrinkled her nose. “ I'll take my chances.”

 

The Sparkly Jerk laughed and nodded. “Ah, Kuroh, you're finally up from your nap there?” Kurosuke was tattered, and most of his hair fell out of his ponytail. Despite his poor condition, he stood upright, proud and determined. “From what I saw, Akina's not the least bit graceful, unfortunately. So I'm sorry to say you wouldn't have gone down beautifully if she were allowed to continue.”

 

Since Snake-Eyes wasn't looking, Neko took her trick and made it better. The sound of her footsteps, the ring of her bell, her own shadow, even as she ran and jumped with great speed, none of that was audible nor visible.

 

“I told you to stop bullying Kurosuke!” Her voice echoed in the air through gritted teeth, and by the time she lifted the illusion, she'd already gripped around the arm the guy had his sword in, tugging it up and away from Kuroh's neck with all her might.

 

“Neko!” Kurosuke's admonishing tone was in use. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!”  
  


“Shut up, Kurosuke! This is hard!” The Sparkly Jerk had a strong arm, and it took all Neko had to keep him from killing Kuroh. What ticked her off more was how in stride he took it, instead of trying to flail, he was calmly standing in place with an airy sigh. “Kurosuke! You said we can't get hurt, or Shiro will be sad when he comes back! So! Get off your butt!”

 

“Goodness.” The Sparkly Jerk's tone wasn't at all rattled by this situation. In fact, his arm relaxed. “There's no need for this.” With his free arm, he reached behind him for Neko.

 

Neko swung around to the front of him, still tightly clinging to his arm. “I dunno who 'Ameno' is! I don't care! Leave me and Kurosuke alone!” Before she could react, something caught on the back of her collar and yanked her off the Sparkly Jerk's arm, and when she landed in front of Kurosuke, the swordsman shoved her behind him.

 

“Have you lost your mind?!” He kept his hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving back in front of him. “Neko! Don't go jumping in like that!”

 

“You needed help!” Kurosuke was in no condition to be arguing against her help. His clothes were scratched up, he got _electrocuted,_ and both of those Green jerks have been tossing him around like a ball of yarn.

 

“The instructions were to not harm you, but if Kuroh's going to be as kind as to keep you out of the way...” The Sparkly Jerk's sword tapped the pavement lightly, and he towered right over Kurosuke. “Then that doesn't affect the mission at all.”

 

Kurosuke tensed, forcing Neko back further despite her best efforts to resist. This guy bragging all about 'beauty' and whatever was, essentially, about to kick someone when they were down, and the girl watched impassionately not far off. By now, the sword pointed at Kurosuke's neck retracted, and swung down forcefully.

 

The ground between them shook and broke, a cloud of dust blinding their views for what seemed like hours. Neko shut her eyes tight to keep dust out of them, but her curiosity soon got the best of her.

 

White clothes. White hair. A red umbrella that intensely contrasted the latter two. “You come invading a person’s home. And worse, you try to hurt his family.” The voice sounded deeper, sturdier, with an annoyed undertone. Yet, there was no doubt about it. Even if it wasn't the airy, light-hearted tone Neko fondly remembered, she knew it was his. She looked up from the arm holding her up, and met warm, amber eyes.

 

“Shiro...!”

 

Hearing his name, Shiro shortly smiled at her, but his smile turned oddly serious. “I'd call that the height of arrogance...” He looked up at the green bird. “Nagare Hisui.”

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Kelp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unaffiliated with any of the episodes. Some fun characters though.

Shiki sat in the white chair of an uncomfortably pure white, plain room, with white hardwood and transluscent white curtains. It looked more like a hospital room than a bedroom, but the lack of IV and heart monitor made it clear this wasn't some hospital building. On the bed, a girl with beige skin and wavy, short burgundy hair sat, her head resting against the wall. With her eyes closed and her breathing slow, she seemed asleep.

 

Quietly, Shiki said the girl's name. “Fuyu.”

 

The girl immediately gave him a smile and pulled her earbuds out. “Shiki? You came to visit for once?” She wasn't completely facing him, looking just slightly above his head and beyond that.

 

Shiki observed the audiobook in her lap. Although he hadn't asked about it, Fuyu immediately caught on. “I guess someone got it for me. I can read larger text close to my face, but the audiobooks are a lot easier and stimulating. There's music, different voices for all the characters...” She listed more and more things about the audiobook's contents, and how her current collection was entire book series that kept her up hours. She spoke quickly, excitably, her hands never kept still, always bringing her words to life.

 

Through the curtains, a bright, bright white light seared into the room, harsening the bleached colour scheme of it. Before Shiki could react, Fuyu jumped out of bed, a look of wonder on her face. She pushed the curtains back and opened the window, sticking her head outside. Her smile, if possible, grew. “Shiki! Are you seeing it this?” She held a hand over her heart. “I feel it, too. This wonderful, amazing presence. It resonates right through the air and into my heart.” She sighed wistfully. “Wow... it's so pretty. The Silver King's Sword of Damocles, it's so bright and colourful. The other Kings' orbs are up there, including mine! Aw... but it's so small and dingy compared to the other orbs.”

 

Usually, long-distance objects were out of the question for Fuyu, but the Auras were second nature to her, Shiki gathered.

 

“Man...” Fuyu's mood shifted to a frustrated one. “Why did I get stuck with something as dull as some black Sword of Damocles? 'Colourless' – this is the age of technicolour! Supernatural elements have no room for being as dull as just copping out with a 'Colourless' King. Why couldn't it have been something like pink, or tan or... I dunno, I'd settle for orange, even! 'Colourless'... what a rip off!” She turned to Shiki. “Don't you agree, Shiki? And it's not like the last one left me in a good spot reputation wise. Not that anyone even knows I exist. Well, aside from you, Yuko, Akina, and Doctor and her employees.”

 

Personally, Shiki didn't think much of the swords in general. The ones like the Red King's and Blue King's were all overwhelmingly the colour they denoted. It made sense, sure, but there was something that made them hard to look at. They were too much their single colour. As for Fuyu's, well... she was right, it was terribly plain, and in contrast, the Silver King's somehow showcased all seven colours without losing it silver gleam, all in a balanced scheme.

 

The glow of the room disappeared, and once more, the room was a less impressive white. At the window, Fuyu pouted. “It disappeared pretty quick, but, I guess this means he finally appeared?” Her energy was gone, and now she gave off an impression of an untouched field of snow. “Say, Shiki, Akina didn't come with you?”

 

Shiki shook his head. “No.” Fuyu's shoulders slacked, to the point where she looked like an old rag doll. “She isn't... allowed.” Not without Mishakuji or Tenkei's supervision. Without them, she wasn't allowed anywhere Fuyu, and vice versa. Shiki knew it frustrated Akina, but, for Fuyu, it had to be worse. She wasn't bedridden by any means, but a J-Rank's supervision was even more necessary for her.

 

Oddly enough, Fuyu perked up, and she smiled and clapped her hands. “Shiki, just now, you said I'd be able to see her, too, right? All I need is supervision?” She took Shiki's silence as confirmation. “Then, that works perfectly! My position finally isn't useless!”

 

'Useless'? Shiki tilted his head, unable to understand what Fuyu meant by that. It wasn't a helpful position, but he couldn't see it as 'useless', besides, if she was planning what Shiki thought she was, then she was going out on a limb here. A very dangerous, fickle limb. Vividly, Shiki heard Akina's voice, firm, even, and authorative, telling Fuyu that she was being reckless, careless. Then again, he understood Fuyu's impatience. Akina found herself in a much better position for seeing Fuyu – she had unlimited contact with <jungle>'s top Clansmen and their King, but after all this time, she had yet to try and ask to see Fuyu.

 

“Basically, one of <jungle>'s Clansmen is just leftovers from one of the other Kings, right?”

 

Hesitantly, Shiki nodded. The showy one.

 

“Then I make him take me to see Akina and the others, or the other way around, and I'll just fix up his Colourless Aura for him. Good as new and not depending on a dead one's.”

 

“I don't... think he'll agree.”

 

“Why?” Fuyu crossed her arms with a roll of her eyes. “As far as I'm concerned, he has no reason -no right to decline.” She shifted around the around the room, and pressed her back against the door. “Besides, if <jungle> wins, cool and everything. But, what I'm rooting for is for something impressive to happen, and he seems the best candidate. I'd want him to experience failure when he should ” Fuyu held a complete lack of malice in her desire. She genuinely felt she held no ill intentions. It sounded more like she made a game of a different game's players. “I want him to experience failure when he should have been at his best. I think it'd add some spice to the game - for <jungle>'s top member to not live up to expectations.”

 

She pushed herself off the door and returned to the window. “There's no way Doctor will tell me no, so it'll be fine,” Fuyu pointed out. She pulled the curtains open, this time leaning her hand on the window sill, and her free hand hooded her eyes. “It was so bright and pretty, brighter than the sun, prettier than most of the jewellery I've ever had, the Silver King's Sword of Damocles.”

 

Fuyu backed away, her dark brown eyes shining. “He's finally here.” She chuckled. “ He's finally here. That's the man Hisui and Doctor have been waiting for.” A fragile, unreadable emotion emanated from Fuyu, and she mellowed out completely, and it felt as if the liveliness in the room slowly drained out the window. “I really don't care about <jungle>'s game, but, now, maybe I will. In my own way.” She abruptly turned to Shiki, with her hands gently on his shoulders. “That's why, Shiki, make sure Akina comes here, okay? Or have that one J-Rank bring me to her.”

 

“...” Shiki averted his gaze. He didn't want to promise her anything he couldn't pull through with. That was an issue of _Akina_ going along with it and _then_ trying to get some permission.

 

Fuyu tightened her grip on him, her smile completely gone. “Shiki, I haven't seen her in so long, or even spoke to her... Please.” She lowered her head, staring down at her blankets. “I know I'm the reason we're all in this mess, but... please... I want to see her so bad. I'm always stuck in this room...” Shiki squirmed at the quivering in her voice. “No one ever comes to see me. Not Akina, not Yuko, and not... not anyone. None of you guys. You all avoid me. I know this is all my fault but please, please --”

 

A solid two knocks on the door distracted Shiki, and he craned his neck when he heard the doorknob click.

 

A tall, sunglasses-wearing woman with a lilac bob-cut entered. She lowered her sunglasses, revealing pale, rose-coloured eyes. “What's all this noise about, Fuyu?” She blinked, apparently just now noticing Shiki's presence. “You have a guest for once.”

 

Fuyu backed away from Shiki and sat down on the bed, smoothing her burgundy hair out. “Nothing... sorry, Doctor.”

 

The woman smiled, making her way to the window and tapping the glass. “Just now, you must have felt it, yeah?”

 

“The Silver King's presence, yes.”

 

“Hmm...” Doctor flipped her sunglasses closed. “Good, good. This is good for us both, Fuyu.”

 

Shiki noticed that the moment Doctor walked in, the chaotic air immediately disippated. The turmoil and confusion vanished, leaving him feeling light and relaxed, completely calm. It was Doctor's innate ability to eliminate distress, but he never got used to it. Having all the anxiety he felt stripped away was, in every way, unnatural, even if Doctor's presence made it inevitable. Still, things got easier when one felt calm. They could think and reason better, instead of getting caught up in their heavier emotions. The Doctor's presence was reassuring, unnatural, and absolutely necessary.

 

“The Silver King, Weismann... he left such wonderful specimens for me to look over, and now I can finally start keeping up with them.” With a hop in her step, Doctor made her way to leave. “Fuyu, we'll have arrangements made for you to leave soon, but I do need you to be patient.” She smiled at the concerned look Fuyu shot her. “Our next move... we have to patient and careful. For now, Akina – she's <jungle>'s. So no matter what they prompt her to do, don't hold it against me. Or Akina herself, for that matter.”

 

“But--”

 

Doctor tutted. “Fuyu Kantama, as a member of this wonderful world of Kings, it is your duty to know when to leave things to Clansmen and when to act. This is the former. Without your cooperation, my own relations to the Green King may get skewered, and the same goes for Akina's cooperation. Then the entirety of my Clan is in jeopardy, and those are your former Clansmen, to boot. So for a bit more, we let <jungle> uncover the pearl, and then we'll adorn and polish it.” She put her sunglasses back on. “Shiki. You have a job to do at Scepter 4. I'll send Nayako and Kayako with you. There's someone I'd like you to employ. Make sure it's obvious that taking 'no' for an answer is unacceptable. You know what to do if there's any insistent refusal.” She shaped her right hand as scissors, and made a cuttig gesture across her throat.

 

Doctor. This was the woman Shiki put his loyalty into. She had the calming effect of a slow-running river, and the ruthlessness of a hurricane. Words like 'unpredictable' and 'capricious' described her perfectly. She was no shrinking violet, and would probably drown one if they got in her way and name a piece of jewellery after them in honour of their memory. Her motivations for working alongside <jungle> still remained unclear to Shiki, but he didn't question them.

 

“Get a move on, now,” she encouraged, “like Akina said, they may have their own little triumverate, but it's best we play our part in ours as well.”

 

_The Silver, Red, and Blue Kings on one side of the glass, and the Green, Violet, and Colourless on the other, we have to be sure not to slack about._

 

 


	7. Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say but writing Silvers interaction leaves me at my Strongest.

The little shit, Sukuna Gojo, never stopped moving and jumping around, not even for a single second. Naturally, he irritated Fushimi a great deal, and his arrogant, exhausting trash-talking was just pointless, not something Fushimi had any interest in listening to.

 

He wanted to nail the kid right in the throat with at least one throwing knife, but as much as Fushimi hated to admit it, the J-Rank didn't get where he was for no reason. He compensated being a shrimp by using a scythe with a blade conducted out of his own Green Aura, and had a dynamic, agile combat style. When he focused on attacking Yata and seemed to leave his back exposed, Fushimi took advantage, but the kid reacted in no time, now pushing both back with massive force.

 

“I don't get how the heck you guys are worth so much points.” While speaking, Sukuna kept moving, effortlessly avoiding the two No. 3's attacks. “Are you guys really 3K and 4K? Easy points aren't fun at all!”

 

Yata impulsively propelled forward, but Sukuna zoomed right past him. In the corner of his eye, Fushimi saw a glowing blade, and the brat showed up right in front of him.

 

“I'll go after 4K first!”

 

Fushimi had no time to react. At this proximity, a knife would do him no good in deflecting the scythe, and forming a proper shield in time was out of the question

 

A gleaming light filled the sky. Even though it was a fair distance away, its light still succeeded in overwhelming one's senses.

 

Yata tensed. “That sword...”

 

A sword that went unseen for a year.

 

Smirking, Sukuna expressed no deep interest in the sword.“He finally came out!” Soon, his attention returned to his opponents. “About time! Alright! Now I'm more motivated to kick your asses!”

 

***

 

He'd landed. He was here. Before his Clansmen, the First and Silver King, Yashiro Isana, finally reached the world once more. Time never stopped flowing, it only accelerated. The reality of that were the friends behind him, and the enemies in front of him.

 

“It is an honour to meet you, First King Adolf K. Weismann, the Silver King.” After the loud flutter of the bird's wings, the swordsman bowed. “I am Yukari Mishakuji, a J-Rank of the Green Clan <jungle>.” He straightened up just in time for the bird to land on his shoulder. “I apologise for our King's absence. Though he will be speaking through our Clansman.” He glanced expectantly at the long-haired girl a few feet behind him, and at first, she didn't budge, but a few seconds more of Yukari's look, and she bit her lip, stepping forth.

 

She exaggerated her bow, to the point where Shiro could see bits of blood on her head. “Akina Manju. J-Rank.” She never met Shiro's eyes, and instead watched the green bird.

 

Shiro's grip on the umbrella tensed. Through the green bird's beak was a deep, smooth voice, politely introducing himself as the Fifth and Green King himself. “I've long awaited this moment.”

 

“I guess that means you managed to lure me out...” A faint smile appeared on Shiro's face, one close to amusement, and he tilted his head. “Didn't you?”

 

“Affirmative. This verifies that you are not the bystander you once were.” The bird's wings flapped, as if mirroring his King's enthusiasm. “It was a strategic success.”

 

In response, barely gets a laugh from Shiro.

 

Displeased, Yukari frowned. “And you used Kuroh as bait?” The displeasure quickly turned to more natural amusement. “Kings can be so cruel.”

 

“Affirmative,” Nagare listlessly replied, “and in the same vein, I issue a new order: please withdraw immediately.”

 

From the looks of it, not even this guy expected that. “You don't want me to take care of our big catch?”

 

“No. Withdraw immediately.”

 

Shiro braced himself for disobedience, seeing the irritated look in Yukari's eyes, but the J-Rank sheathed that sword of his quickly, only staring down Shiro. “Too bad. I can't say I'm pleased, but my King orders so.” Once more, he bowed. “We shall take leave, Silver King.” He pulled out his PDA and put it to his ear. “Did you hear that, Sukuna? Withdraw immediately. No buts about it. Let's go.” His spoke authoratively, leaving no room for argument. With the conversation settled, his focus changed to Kuroh. “In deference to the King that saved you so selflessly, I'll let you live for today. Next time, though, let me enjoy myself more.” He offered a venomous smile. “Otherwise, I'll cut you down like a dead branch.”

 

With that, the three Clansmen and their King vanished.

 

_That's that, then._

 

The Silver Sword of Damocles dissolved into shimmers, and Shiro could overhear Kuroh struggling with to get up with the injuries he was sporting. Walking over, he held out his hand. “Can you stand, Kuroh?”

 

Blue eyes met his amber ones, conflicted between disbelief and relief. Rather than accept Shiro's hand, Kuroh's head dropped, and his eyes tightly closed. He debated so much in so little time, before finally taking a deep breath and holding his head high and kneeling. “Welcome back.”

 

“ _Shiro!”_

 

Neko turned Kuroh's back into a springboard, wrapping her arms around his neck and, with great zeal, rubbing her cheek against his. She rapidly cheered his name and return, how much she missed him, asking what he'd been doing, why he hadn't come back until just now. Soon, her arms slid from around his neck to his cheeks, and her speech hastened, mixed with bursts of small jumping and shaking so she could observe every angle of his squished face. By the time she stopped jumping, she swayed back and forth.

 

Recovering from being a human trampoline, Kuroh staggered his way up. “I was just about to ask him that!”

 

Ignoring him, Neko briefly stood still. “We looked everywhere for you, Shiro!” She skipped to his other side, still tightly pushing his cheeks together with a deep scolding to her voice. “We searched and searched!” Searching every inch of Tokyo and then some, their run-ins with the Greens during the Mihashira Tower incident. “The Glitter Guy went _whoosh!_ and beat up Kurosuke! And Anna went all _boom!_ in fire...!”

 

Absorbed in listening to her, going along with her wild movements, it only now registered to Shiro that Neko's face definitely was not that of a smiling girl. Her eyes watered up, and she struggled to keep telling her story, anxiously rocking back and forth on her heels. “We kept looking for you, after all that... and then... and then...” Her voice shook more and more, and her swaying completely stopped into a stiff, shaky mess.

 

To get her attention, Shiro put his hand on her head. “I home.” Gently, he started to stroke her head, and she settled into a hug without any fuss.

 

“Welcome home.” Her mood mellowed out, and her voice no longer had a trembling quality to it. Moreso, it was a tired, relieved one.

 

Behind her, Kuroh rubbed the back of his head, appearing to refuse looking at Shiro. “Anyway, what she said.”

 

What an awkward dog. Still holding Neko, Shiro smiled in Kuroh's direction, letting Neko nuzzle against his chest contently. “Come on, admit it now. This is a tearjerker moment.” He looked down at Neko. “So you're supposed to run up to me to hug me like Neko here... and say 'I missed you too, Shiro!'”

 

For a moment, Shiro actually though Kuroh would, but alas, the man scoffed. “In your dreams!”

 

He acted stubborn, but his own shaking increased. For the vassal who lost one King already, the time for joking had long since ended. If the search was hard on Neko, it was definitely hell on Kuroh as well, and despite that fact, he was holding every emotion under the sun back.

 

Shiro dropped the cheery disposition. “I'm sorry.”

 

The Black Dog relaxed. “No, I'm glad you're alive.”

 

“Same goes to you.”

 

“So how up to date are you?”

 

Shiro knew pretty much everything about what's happened. That was exactly why he was able to make such a flawlessly timed entrance, naturally. Was it all entirely intentional? Maybe. Who knows?

 

“You haven't changed at all, you clown...” Kuroh actually smiled this time.

 

Maybe. In truth, Shiro had been working behind the scenes, hoping he could handle this whole mess without dragging everyone into it, but the Green Clan moved quicker than he anticipated. Stilling stroking Neko's head, Shiro quickly became all smiles once more. “Because of that, they dragged me out. I'm causing more trouble for everyone now.”

 

“Damned right,” Kuroh agreed, “you jerk.” He started to walk away, arms crossed and his mannerism being akin to one of high authority disapproving another's actions. “If you had shown up and shared the joy and pain with us, we wouldn't be having this discussion.” He took on an oddly regal pose. “Adolf K. Weismann – no, Yashiro Isana.” He turned sharply, a stern glint in his blue-grey eyes. “Don't forget, we're your Clansmen.”

 

Shiro searched for something to say, but Neko perked up. “Yeah, Shiro!” Surprisingly, she removed herself from him. She ran to Kuroh, and yanked his arm, dragging him back. Somehow, she succeeded in making Kuroh follow her, and forced the man to throw an arm around Shiro's shoulder. With all her strength, Neko squeezed the three of them into a tight hug, not allowing Kuroh to shake himself free. “You're our King!”

 

The double embrace was warm, with both Clansmen's long hair brushing against Shiro's face. A warm, welcoming embrace.

 

***

 

“ _So, what now?”_

 

“ _Hmm?”_  
  
“I know how cunning you are,” Kuroh commented, “you didn't just let them lure you out, right? I'd like to think you have a plan or two.”

 

_Ah, seen right through again. “I may have something up my sleeve...” Shiro trailed off, somewhat changing the topic. Until recent events, the Green Clan posed a potential threat, but now they actually made their move._

 

Against such a large Clan, it would take more than just the Silver Clan to deal with them.

 

That is, the Third Red King, Anna Kushina, and the Fourth Blue King, Reisi Munakata, with both Kings' respective No. 2 and No. 3 by their sides. Then himself, The First Silver King, Adolf K. Weismann, AKA Yashiro Isana, with Neko and Kuroh at his side. Three prominent figures gathering in a small dorm with colourful, moving walls at a table for discussion. He supposes they could call it a round table conference?

 

“A round table conference...” Failing to hold back his irritation, Yata gritted his teeth and aggressively referred to the table. “It's not even round! It's a rectangle!”

 

Well, that sure makes this more awkward than they already were. Ahem. So about –

 

Fushimi also has constructive commentary to add, while Scepter 4's lieutenant and King held their tongues. “We're already packed in here like sardines, stop _whining_!”

 

“Screw you!” Yata retorted, “you should talk, you horde of Blues!”

 

Whilst the two mindlessly argue, everyone else could do nothing but sit in silence, hoping neither of them made a move to try and fight in this cramped little dorm room. Shiro frowned at the less than inspiring interaction, but thought it best not to intervene just yet. At least both his Clansmen had the sense to stay out of it. In fact, Neko found it better to completely ignore their banter, instead tossing her poncho onto Kuroh's head without a care in the world and inspecting a pink box HOMRA gave to her. Whatever she got must've pleased her, since Shiro could hear her delighted cheer.

 

Finally, Kusanagi and Seri succeed in forcing the rowdier two to tone it down. In the silence that followed, a familiar face awkwardly walked in with a tray full of cups of tea.

 

“Sorry for making you do all the work, Kukuri.”

 

Kukuri smiled brightly, albeit still unsure of how to conduct herself in such an odd situation. “No... no it's fine. You're Shiro, right? It doesn't look like Kuro and Neko plan on leaving your side now that your back.”

 

Kuroh cleared his throat, claiming that it wasn't like that, but Neko begged to differ. She leaped over to Shiro, once more hugging him with his cheek against her. Honestly Shiro didn't mind, but the Blue King soon got down to business.

 

“Shall we get to our round table conference – coffee table conference, Silver King Adolf K. Weismann?”

 

Kukuri slowly walked away from the ragtag meeting, and Neko promptly released Shiro, who pardoned himself for the derail. “Please, just call me Yashiro Isana, both of you. And thank you both for coming on short notice.”

 

Being the other King that managed to smile, Anna nodded in acknowledgement. “I wanted to repay your Clansmen for all their help.” Her smile widened at Neko's waving to her, and now she wore the gift HOMRA must have given her: a small bottle necklace where a red marble jingled inside.

 

“If we go by that logic...” Munakata added, “I'd say you both owe us for having to always clean your mess.” Less agreeable as always. No one could really say there was much to take to heart from the remark, rather, it was the remark of a man getting tired of having his Clansmen run around with their hands to keep up with the mess that kept spiralling out of control. Only after no one was able to offer an explanation for that did Munakata finally move on. “That aside, what _is_ the purpose of this meeting?”

 

Sure someone like Munakata has a pretty good idea, Shiro allowed the inquiry to linger in the room.

 

Anna followed up. “What to do with the Green Clan.”

 

She was completely right. _Something_ came up that requires them all to cooperate. That something was someone important to him, to the entire country. The last bit of Shiro's past he could turn to. “The Second and Gold King, Daikaku Kokujoji... has passed away.” Those last two words hang over everyone in the air, whether or not they're aware of the influence this has on them. The King, who safeguarded the Dresden Slate was _gone_.

 

“Is that why the Green Clan has been so active?” Seri asked.

 

“With the Lieutenant... the _Gold King_ , gone, the Green King has nothing to fear.” No reason to suppress his ambitions and powers.

 

“We heard they were after you, though,” Kusanagi pointed out, “shouldn't they be afraid of you?”

 

Not really. Shiro posed no immediate threat, not like the Gold King. What he did have was knowledge over the Slate they're after. And my power is eternal, the opposite of their manipulation.”

 

Kusanagi rose an eyebrow. “So you're a wild card to them?”

 

“Yes.” The foundation and base of order amongst Kings departed, leaving only the Silver King's actions to be up for interpretation, how he would take to the change <jungle> wanted for this world.

 

Shiro closed his eyes, hearing the Lieutenant's gruff, aged voice vividly.

 

_'What a waste... to close my eyes.'_

 

So now... for Shiro... as he had walked across the airship's garden, and fell through the sky, he vowed to face the world head until his own last breath, just the Lieutenant. There'd be no running away. Not after they pulled him back down. The Green Clan wouldn't hold back anymore, constantly calculating the wild card's next move. The three Kings in this little room had to work together to stop the Green Clan, especially with the Gold King's absence.

 

He rose his head. “What do you say?”

 

Munakata spoke without hesitation. “The Blue Clan, Scepter 4's mission is to maintain order. I have no objection.” Behind the Blue King, his lieutenant and third in command offered no further commentary, most likely a silent voice of approval.

 

Anna nodded. “I pledge that, as the Red King, the Red Clan will work alongside the Silver Clan and Blue Clan.”

 

Yata stomped his foot, fist clenched in excitement. He had absolutely no qualms with the concept of the three Clans banding together to take out the Green Clan.

 

***  
  
Just before Munakata left, Shiro called out to him from atop the stairs.

 

The man before him was in charge of the Dresden Slate in place of the Gold King.

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

Not really, but Shiro left that unsaid. “How much do you know about the Slates?”

 

“Nowhere near as much as you, Silver King.”

 

Fantastic. Shiro listened to this man, as haughty as he had been the last time he and Shiro exchanged words, stood and explained himself. No doubt, the Blue King was the only one within any proper control of the Slate at this point in time. That said... “Are you trying to become the second Daikaku Kokujoji?” Suddenly, the man had nothing to say, so Shiro went on. “If you don't mind, please allow me to help you watch over the Sla--”

 

“You expect me to rely on someone who ran away?”

 

Each word is a lance running straight through Shiro. His mind blanked, and the past painted over the present. The voice – his voice, once claiming things were 'over' for him, and the voice of his old friend admonishing his cowardice. He only watched the Blue King walk out the school doors without another word. When he finally did, it felt like the air was breathable once more. Without that distracting presence, he became more aware of the peanut gallery not far from him.

 

Beside himself, Shiro smiled. “Guess I had that coming, right Kuro?”

 

“You knew we were here?” Well it wasn't hard to notice them.

 

Nor was it hard to notice the jingling of bells heading straight for him. Neko glued herself to him, her look soft and worried. “Did the Boss Glasses say something mean to you?”

 

Not mean. But definitely some brutal truth. Of course, that's not much of an assuring answer, so Shiro just stroked her head, welcoming the support she constantly offered. “I'm okay, it was nothing.”

 

“Are you sure? Shiro, are you really sure?”

 

Shiro understood what she was asking about, but the response he gave hardly related to her worries. “I made a promise not to run away this time. And to face this head on, but...”

 

Before he can say anything else, he hears _it_. He hears _him_. The smooth voice overlayed by the quality of an old recorder. There's no doubt about it.

 

'One step at a time, skip towards the path you chose. That is all it takes.'

 

Now, of all times? This is supposed to be another heartwarming moment, but instead they get... they get that. And Kuroh's positively beaming, to boot. Stop that.

 

“Creepy!”

 

That snapped the dog out of it. Now he was standing with an indignant blush on his face and his eye twitching. Instead of extending the topic, he pointed upstairs. “Go back to your room. We're having grilled mackerel and miso soup for dinner.”

 

Neko instantly jumped from Shiro. “Really? I love fish!”

  
  
“Neko, I know...”

  
  
“Let's go! Let's go! Kurosuke, Shiro hurry up!” She zoomed up the stairs with ease, hardly able to wait for the other two to follow.

 

Shiro shortly followed after Kuroh. “By the way, I heard the Gold Clan took care of repairing my room and arranged the lease transfer to you.” He must say, those guys are very efficient.

 

“The Gold King created a place for you to return to. We're thankful.”

 

“You're right, thanks Lieutenant!”

 

“Mmhmm! Thank you! Thank you!”

 

 


	8. Kitted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay I feel the need to pointed out "kitted" in this sense means like. Being prepared with supplies or something. Yeah. Also Douhan.

Douhan's already inconvenient, troublesome situation somehow got less inconvenient and troublesome. Not only was the cell holding her not the most comfortable, let alone all the unwanted conversatons she received from nosier Scepter 4 Clansmen and – on the rare occasion – their King, who was an unfortunate bit of company all on his own. The only bright side to her new 'visitors' was the fact they weren't Scepter 4 Clansmen.

 

She had no idea how the three got in the jailhouse undetected, and frankly couldn't recall how the hell two of them physically got into her cell. The intruders were young girls, twins from the looks of it, with the only difference between them being their hairstles. One with twin braids, the other with short hair. The one hanging outside her cell was some teen with messy black hair and a heavy winter coat. A lookout, most likely. None of them seemed like notable <jungle> Clansmen, and nothing about them left the impression that they were regularly ranked members of the site, either.

 

“Who're you three?” Douhan sensed no danger from them, and the short-haired girl swung a heavy plastic bag around and slowly revealed its contents to Douhan – a cluster of black and violet armour resembling her old uniform. Come to think of it, that boy had two large, long suitcases with him, one suitable for a sword and the other for more curved weapons – ideally, _her_ weapons.

 

The girl with the armour grinned. “Agents!” She managed a quiet, supressed brand of excitement. “I'm Sayuri, n' my sis is Ren.” She pointed to the boy, the bag rustling with her movement. “His name is Shiki.” She made a proud stance. “Boss sent us.

 

And what did that have to do with their intrusion? What part of this involved Douhan, exactly? The woman could barely try and endure imprisonment with some personal time to herself, let alone the faint feeling that she just got some babysitting job. What was with the armour? Who the hell was 'Boss'?

 

“Girls,” Shiki said, “speed it up.” He spoke to the two patiently.

 

Sayuri and Ren saluted. “Roger!” Ren followed up by pulling out a PDA. Turning it on, an odd logo popped up. The larget letter, an 'M', loosely resembled the front of a palace, with four other letters in between the M's spaces, and the only lower-cased letter of it was 'i'. To anyone unfamiliar with the logo, it didn't appear to spell out anything in particular.

 

“So it's PRiSM.”

 

That organisation under the guise of biobehavioral and biochemical research, along with a popularised reputation for relief. They were little more than an educational resource and relief aid to the public, particularly interacting with society after natural disasters and particularly damaging instances in the nation's history. However, to the more educated, PRiSM had a knack for researching the supernatural and its affects on an organism's body. As a result, several Strains made up PRiSM's member count, depending on the organisation's contributions to better understand their abilities and manage in public. Of course, their way of operating often clashed with the Rabbits and Scepter 4, but the former at the least had a way of negotiating and contacting PRiSM over nearly two decades. For Scepter 4, however, things recently became an issue between the two, one not easily confronted.

 

To call PRiSM a 'Clan' was hardly appropriate. PRiSM so thoroughly kept out of the affairs of Kings and Clans, with their King rarely making an effort to converse or greet others. She had no interest in other Kings, the former Red King, their current one, and the Blue Clan's young King – none of them received any sort of acknowledgement from her. A boundary glued itself between PRiSM and other Clans almost completely. That being the case, the concept of any sort of 'alliance' went unheard of for PRiSM.

 

Yet, somehow, what could be called 'collaboration', or better put, _cooperation_ , emerged between PRiSM and <jungle>. The development was uncharacteristic of both the Violet and Green Kings, and many details remained between the two Clans' highest-ranking Clansmen. Regardless of the Violet King's authority over her Strains, many of them unwittingly got themselves sucked up into the missions from JUNGLE, and such conduct should have gotten them completely annexed from PRiSM, as per their King's policy, but whatever conditions she developed with the Green King greatly reprieved that punishment.

 

Personally, Douhan couldn't have cared less over what those conditions were. They didn't affect her the least, it just kept PRiSM out of <jungle>'s way and vice versa. A mutual benefit, loosely put. Like any decent deal, they had their agreements and restrictions, even if the stability and reliability of either Clan's King was more or less debateable.

 

Judging by these three's appearance, PRiSM wasn't completely satisfied, going as far as approaching one of <jungle>'s 'Clansmen'. Snorting to herself at the thought, Douhan questioned any thought process of PriSM's that made them think she had any interest in going along with what they had in store for her.

 

The twins sighed to themselves.

 

“We already said-”

 

“-that Boss sent us.”

 

“And why's that?” Douhan pressed. What was their boss' plan? More importantly, what did they have to offer for Douhan to even consider humouring them.

 

That silent boy, Shiki leaned against the cell. “Doctor... is very helpful.” That didn't answer Douhan's question. “That's why she'll extend her will to you. You'll... definitely benefit if you come with us.” He seemed hesitant, peering into the cell and staring at the sisters with his tired, grey eyes. The two girls exchanged looks, just as uncertain as to what was on Shiki's mind as Douhan found herself. Yet, when Shiki motioned his head, their looks hardened.

 

“No way.”

 

“We'll get in trouble.”

 

What in the world were they discussing? And go with them where, exactly? Douhan's vigilance increased, reading into their body language. The way the boy moved and held himself resembled less an uneasy, anxious individual and more that of just a tired, uncertain one, at least to Douhan. Something weighed on the boy's shoulders like a truck, and he never bothered to share what it was that troubled him with anyone. On the other hands, the sisters were untroubled, taking in the world in stride with hardly a care in the world. The most they worried about was getting in trouble with their higher-ups, but they took things seriously enough to be entrusted with complex matters.

 

“Erm... ma'am.” Shiki shifted rigidly, his shoulders slumping. “The way you're staring at us is uncomfortable.”

 

Vivid, bright green eyes expressed indifference to his complaint. “It's uncomfortable being surrounded by people I don't know from a different Clan.” Especially when their plans for her wasn't any sort of business she wanted to partake in.

 

Sayuri leaned over her, hands clasped behind her back. “Well that ain't any good,” she commented, “'cos our boss wanted to employ ya.”

 

“An' declinin' ain't good either,” Ren followed up. “'cause then Shiki's gotta act.”

 

Both of them held up victory signs in unison. “So just cooperate, 'kay? Otherwise all yer' stuff's gonna get sold off.”

 

Reluctantly, Douhan stood up, a hand on her hip. She narrowly eyed the young trio, slowly holding up the bag of armour up.

 

“Like we said.” Ren sat down on the bench. “All you gotta do is cooperate a lil'.”

 

Sayako nodded. “'N then just do what you're hired to do. We dunno what that's gonna be, though. Chances are you won't even become a Clansman.”

 

The Violet Clan intended on having her join them – no, _work_ for them, no strings attached. Her previous relations to  <jungle> didn't matter to them, or so it seemed. They were willing to provide her with accomodations on the condition that she did what was expected her, whatever that was. They offered _her_ a lot for something _they_ vaguely explained. No one in their right mind would agree to that.

 

A crimson blade curved up behind her, the tip reaching for her neck. Following its trail, Douhan saw what must have been the staff of it peek out from under Shiki's heavy winter coat, the sleeves of it still hiding his hands. Shiki neglected to completely face her, so she only saw one eye dark eye stare her down.

 

“Miss Hirasaka, we are pressed for time. If you have not noticed, any option we give for you to decline is, more or less, a farce. Further, we are not permitted to simply leave you be were you to decline. That would leave you a liability we cannot afford at this point in time.” What Douhan assumed the impossible happened. That kid _smiled_. “Of course, you have plenty of free will, so do keep your own principles in mind before giving us an answer. If you do choose to decline, I will be more than happy to give you a respectfully painless death.”

 

_God, another one._

 

Douhan sighed inwardly. Suddenly, any sense of urgency disippated, and the boy's threat became more tiresome than anything else. Not to mention tedious. As if claiming she actually had any choice in the matter made that true, but it looked like PRiSM had a talent for regulations that made them feel betters about themselves and their actions. Douhan never pegged them the murderous type, but as a Clan filled to the brim with damaged goods, it didn't seem that much a stretch.

 

“Shiki's right!” Sayuri forcefully wrapped her arm around Douhan's. “But, hey, if it's any more encouragin', we think that you n' the boss are gonna get along great!”

 

Black clogged Douhan's vision, along with an overwhelming tingling, buzzing sensation all over her body. Her head felt like it spiralled upward, like she completely dissolved from the world. Gradually, however, she gained her bearings, and the black film slowly lifted. That unpleasant buzzing disappeared as well, and her head leveled. Scepter 4's dull scenery within its prison reappeared, and the two girls still stood beside her, along with Shiki.

 

“Why are you in the cell?” Douhan asked. She rubbed her forehead, shaking some lingering fuzziness away.

 

Shiki shook his head, gesturing around him, putting a hand on Sayuri's head. Rather than the cell, the narrow hallway of the prison surrounded the lot. “It feels weird, but you get used to it. Sayuri's teleporting, that is.”

 

The twin-braided girl nodded. “So don't leggo o' me, 'kay ma'am? It could get messy if ya do in the middle of the next trip.”

 

With that rushed warning, everything turned to black again. Faintly, Douhan felt as if they travelled higher into the air, falling at a smooth pace. When her vision returned, no longer did a dull decour surround her. Instead, she stood in a completely white, circular room, with pristine white tiling and two white staircases on either side of large French doors. Although definitely high-class, the architecture had a stuffy, heavy atmosphere about it. It left Douhan far from uneasy, but the feel of the place definitely wasn't built with a warm theme in mind.

 

Next to the doors, two boys not much older-looking than Shiki stood. They spoke amongst themselves, before finally one of them realised they had company. He nudged his colleague, and the two wore mischievous smiles.

 

“She's the new recruit?” The first to speak had bright, wild orange hair and the taller, leaner one he stood next to had splotched skin, likely vilitgo. “She agreed to come along?”

 

“I haven't agreed to anything,” Douhan pointed out. The teleporter randomly decided to drop them off at this huge place, that's all she knew. She stood her ground, not budging even while the other three started to disband. The sisters ran upstairs, laughing and chasing each other the whole way up, while Shiki walked through the doors with a shallow nod to the two standing near it. The two boys made new effort to speak to her, once again immersed in their own conversation. Their whispers echoed in the room, indiscernable aside for laughs. For two that most likely guarded those doors, they seemed awfully at peace.

 

Above, the sisters' laughing returned, and they burst down the stairs, waiting in the middle of them and looking back. “Boss, we brought her!”

 

The woman leaned on the stair balcony, a smile on her face. “Miss Hirasaka, it's a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, “I apologise for summoning you on such notice.”

 

Her smooth, fluid voice spread through the room, and made the two boys immediately straighten up and quit talking. Everyone in the room glued their eyes to her, Douhan included.

 

“Who are you?” she asked.

 

The woman stretched, tracing the balcony and stair railing as she walked down. “Well, the kids here usually just call me 'Boss' or 'Doctor', however legally, the name's Kameko Ryujin.” Once on the ground floor, her smile became more pleasant and welcoming. “I am the Sixth and Violet King, the founder and owner of PRiSM, Kameko Ryujin.”

 

Douhan never expected the Violet King to be this indulgent in the luxurious lifestyle, but everything about her was just that – luxurious. Her way of speaking, her shimmering dress, her movements, and especially her domain.

 

As showy as it all seemed, Douhan knew one thing: whatever price she named for her contribution to PRiSM, the Violet King could afford it.

 

So they had some business to attend to.

 


	9. Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 5 was a wild ride.

“Why can't I go in?!”  
  
Neko pouted at Kuroh, the two of them on Timeless Palace's domain, Mihashira Tower. The scenery gave off a very traditional air, with its courtyard-like garden and the sun shining at just the right angle to give it a calm, peaceful atmosphere.

 

Well, aside from the Strain trying to struggle past Kuroh.

 

Shiro, however, took to the inside of the place. A room covered in warm yellow, with paintings and two swords neatly set up on a wood altar. Compared to outside, the room was far quieter and somber.

 

In all those decades, this was the first time Yashiro Isana ever went inside the Lieutenant's room, the small little space where the man lived since April 1945 passed, all alone. Shiro sat on a low tea table, facing a dresser with a single picture on top of it. On that photo, he, Lieutenant, and his dear sister Klaudia, stood side by side, the Dresden Slate behind them.

 

“Lieutenant, guess what... my sister left us something amazing...” A thick stack of worn, yellowed papers all clipped together weighed down in Shiro's hand, a photo of the Slate being the primary page. Documents dug out from the shelter near his old research lab that stayed in tact even after the Silver and Gold Kings parted ways for the sky and world, all stored in a box and donated to Dresden's library until HOMRA's Kusanagi found them. Flipping thorough the documents, Shiro believed his sister knew it would happen – how far and long Lieutenant went to fulfill all of their dreams for an ideal, happy world, and how her younger brother would stumble as soon as things got too big and difficult.

 

A small, well-maintained photo slipped through the documents, showing the genius siblings laughing without a care in the world and a peturbed Lieutenant enduring the presence of a white mouse on his head. On the right-hand corner of the photo: very true words Shiro felt compelled to read aloud.

 

“ _Irren ich menschliche.”_

 

To err is human.

 

Shiro took his leave, the documents neatly kept in a wooden box, slowly sliding the door open, with both his sole Clansmen loyally awaiting him. Neko naturally returned to his side, whereas Kuroh kept in place. Shiro finished his business here, and there were no personal effects to go through. Although, it seemed he had one more thing to attend to.

 

Just below the room's flooring, the elite Rabbits of Timeless Palace dutifully lined up in front of Shiro, all standing with perfect posture, their faces hidden by those yellow and red rabbit masks. A single other one faced him directly.

 

“I know the Lieutenant's orders was to assist me until I made my return to the surface. Sorry to make you guys extend that term for so long.”

 

The elderly Rabbit spoke, “Such thoughtful words...” With great poise, he knelt before Shiro. “...from the friend of our King.” Following his example, the rest of the Rabbits knelt in flawless unison. “In accordance to our King's dying orders, the Gold Clan, Timeless Palace, will engage solely in the maintenance of the existing system, and now cease active participation in this affair. I ask your permission.”

 

Shiro needed no time to think about his response, not in the face of the Lieutenant's most devoted Clansmen.

 

“Permission granted.” He gave a small smile. “And thank you... for your years of service to Daikaku Kokujoji.”

 

Unable to utter a response, the Rabbit inhaled sharply, covering his mouth with the long sleeve of his uniform, most certainly feeling the tug of a loss after decades of relentless support to the man he called his King.

 

***  
  
The Silver Clan made their way out of Mihashira Tower, and after a long, long silent session of descending down, Kuroh finally commented on the unfortunate circumstance leaving them without Timeless Palace's assistance.

 

“That group isn't solely a fighting unit,” Shiro pointed out, “they occupy an important position. They _are_ the upholders of the Slate.” Such a careless act like recruting them and running the risk of losing them wasn't an option. That was the exact reason Lieutenant made his conditions apply to the Rabbits assisting Shiro until he returned to land.

 

Slowly, Kuroh formed a response. “So does that mean... the one who manages the Slate is that Blue King?”

 

Oh boy... “Don't tell me you still have a grudge against him from your last beating?”

 

Kuroh made a discontent face.

 

Bullseye.

 

Neko went into a rather detailed, eclectic retelling of how Kuroh got himself tossed around like a rag doll from the 16th Century. “He totally kicked your butt!” She hit the nail on the head.

 

“I-it's nothing personal like that!”

 

The dog doth protest too much.

 

***  
  
The Blue King looked down at the country's prime minister. On a table were papers of 'succession'.

 

“So as I explained, oversight of Mihashira Tower and the Dresden Slate has been officially turned over to us, Scepter 4. You should also be getting a letter from the Gold Clan soon.”

 

“So you get to act like king now that His Excellency is gone, is that it?”

 

Oh no, not acting. The Dresden Slate chose Munakata as a King. Also, for the record, the Gold Clan's authority to issue orders to each government agency will be transferred to Scepter 4.

 

“That's absurd! Just when--”

 

Munakata smiled. “'Just when the weight hanging over my head head is finally gone.'” Was the right? “Let me assure you, Prime Minister. We have no intention of controlling this country's future out of self-interest.” He spoke earnestly, confidently, with no falsehood sticking to his powerful words. As of now, Scepter 4 was confronting the Green Clan that threatened the peace of their nation. Munakata intended on requesting cooperation from various quarters, that was it.

 

His words fell on cynical ears. The Prime Minister hunched over his desk. “You demand sole authority to issue orders... and then call it a _'request_ ' _?”_

 

Undeterred, Munakata went on. “One must have a foundation to maintain order. So, Mr. Prime Minister, I  _'request'_ your cooperation as well.”

 

“In other words, I have to obey you.”

 

Putting it that way, yes.

 

***

  
“It seems the partnership with the Blue Clan is goin' better than expected.”

 

Staring at her red drink, Anna only nodded and murmured her agreement with Izumo's statement.

 

The way HOMRA and Scepter 4 dealt with <jungle>'s pawns all relied on a programme easily transmitted through PDAs and laptops. More or less, it was a grid monitoring when missions from JUNGLE began, and two waves of red and blue represented movement of their respective Clans neutralising all offenders within the areas marked. Of course, not all of HOMRA's Clansmen participated, including their No. 2 and 3.

 

The latter sighed. “They're so lucky...” He set down the laptop he glued himself to and reclined back on the couch. “Kusanagi... why do I have to be on standby? We're supposed to be pulversing the Greens. HOMRA's gonna look bad without Yatagarasu joining the party, you know?”

 

“You're like the reserves.” Izumo smiled. “We need you around just in case somethin' goes wrong out there.”

 

“So I'm a benchwarmer?”

 

“Don't get bent all out of shape. Besides, aren't you the one who said you'd protect Anna?”

 

“Well yeah,but...”

 

Anna paid no mind to their back and forth, completely lost in staring at the drink and absently stirring the with the straw. 

 

“Yata, you have to learn to be an observer. This is a good chance for you.”

 

“Fine!” Yata relented, although he obviously wasn't content with his position. He picked up a tablet, resuming his surveillance.

 

“The Green King has been pretty quiet since the incident on the school island,” Izumo commented. According to him, it was the lower-ranked Clansmen acting up.

 

Finally, Anna spoke up. “As long as he's being watched from both ends, he can't do anything drastic.” The Blues on the frontlines, and Reds behind the scenes, both contributing and taking and giving from one another. “However...” She picked up a red marble, looking inside, where a bright, yellow light swirled around without any irregular patterns or pace. “He's not being pressured, just saving his strength.”

 

“So he's sharpenin' his fangs before his next move, eh?” Izumo flicked his lighter on, lighting a cigarette, and inhaled the smoke deeply before exhaling, with a long drawl of smoke wisping around in the bar. “That makes me uneasy.”

 

Yata dismissed his uneasiness. “What for? We've got Anna and two other Kings on our side!” He clenched his fist triumphantly. “Even if those green worms bring out their boss, we can easily crush them!” In the midst of his excitement, Yatagarasu nearly dropped the tablet and barely caught it mid-air.

 

The cigar returned to Izumo's mouth. “Even with three Kings...”

 

One of those Kings already displayed signs of instability. By now, everyonnoticed the wear on the Blue King's Sword of Damocles, a result of killing a King. Certainly, something devastating wouldn't happen right away, but no one could afford to overlook his condition either. It was in everyone's best interest to stay on high alert. Those were the Silver King's words. His  _warning_ . To count on all three Kings could be dangerous, and no one wanted to risk another list of casualties coming out of the current mess. 

 

The same Slate that pushed this burden onto everyone allowed Anna to meet Mikoto and everyone in HOMRA. But... that said, if the Slate continued to cause others meet the same fate as Mikoto, then she...

 

Silently, Izumo exstinguished the light on his cigar. “Is it that bad... with the Blue King?”

 

Anna indicated no answer, and the red marble rolled off the counter, away from her.

 

***  


  
Under the table? In the closet? Beneath the blankets? Where had Shiro gone? He disappeared without a trace.

 

Peering into the kitchen, Neko watched Kurosuke prepare their meal, smoke rising from the pan and warming the place. “Hey, where's Shiro?”

 

“He stepped outside a moment ago.”

 

“Huh?! Where'd he go?! I wanna go too!”

 

Kurosuke didn't face her, but his movements slowed. “Leave him be for now. He probably wants some time alone to think things over...”

 

Just when Neko finally got to see him again, too... She huffed, totally skeeved, and made her way to the bed, jumping onto it in a flurry of petals and smoke, landing on it as a cat curled up into a small, tight ball.

 

***  
  
“This country will end if we don't do something... and fast.”  
  
The last time Shiro laid down on his back on this room, and looked up to the slow-moving clouds in that blue sky, it was in a carefree manner. Peace enveloped the country, he did as he pleased and laughed among his friends and classmates, often accompanied by a ravenous, small pink cat, and always holding that red umbrella of his. 

 

A world of Kings and Clans meant nothing to him, and didn't affect him in the slightest. The burden the Dresden Slate bestowed upon others, and the weight of a death that cut deep into his heart... all of that had no place in that peaceful, breezy existence. 

 

Now, all was still. No wind, and the clouds moved slower than ever. There was no pink cat resting on him with a full stomach. Instead, he had the company of a green parrot.

 

“It seems the Blue King has decided to ignore your warnings... and after all the trouble you went through. I feel sorry for you.”

 

Shiro made no attempt to look at Hisui, instead watching the clouds. “I don't appreciate being spied on...”

 

The King kept perched on the side of the roof. “My eyes are everywhere. It's my only freedom.” School security cameras in the halls, the cleaning bots, every JUNGLE student's PDA... all of that at his disposal. 

 

Shiro sat up, smiling despite himself. “So you crawl out the moment Lieutenant dies... I must say, you are quite a cunning person.”

 

“This coming from the man who decides to act only after his best friend dies? I find that ironic.” 

 

“Ouch... You've got me on that one. “ So what was it the Green King wanted?

 

With pleasantries out of the way, the Green King got straight to the main topic. The bird fluttered its wings. “I've been waiting for your return... so that I can give you this proposal...”

 

A 'proposal', after all he pulled? Shiro couldn't find it in himself to dismiss the absurdity of it all with a smile and dry joke. 

 

“First King, Adolf K. Weismann, the Silver King... would you like to team up with me?”

 

The absurdity of this is like some poorly executed black comedy. It was a good thing bad jokes often got a laugh out of the Silver King. “I thought you came here to join our Coffee Table Alliance, so that the four of us can work towards world peace. But it doesn't sound that way.” He can make a bad joke as well.

 

“Coffee Table Alliance? I do respect the name you've given it... But no, it's not that.” What a surprise. “I'm talking about forming a new alliance, just you and me. Together, we will promote the evolution of mankind... that used to be your life's goal, wasn't it? Back in Dresden, seventy years ago.” 

 

The theorem, the mice...

 

“The Dresden Slate is what makes us Kings and our Clansmen... it is an evolution accelerator. But for decates, the all-powerful Gold King kept it under control. As a result, the birth of Strains was minimal... he even managed to maintain the birth of Kings within the Kanto area of Japan. This great power... we'll release it.”

 

“So that's your goal, huh?” Shiro narrowed his eyes. “For what purpose?”

 

“Like I said... to promote the evolution of mankind. That's all.”

 

“You're even more dangerous than I thought...”

 

“I'll take that as a compliment...but....” The entire time he spoke through that bird, Hisui made the fact he smiled from where he hid himself clear with every word and intonation. “That is my dream.”

 

His dream? That sort of dream...

 

“...has been shattered? Then rebuild that dream with me.” The Green King persisted. “The situation is different from seventy years ago. There's nothing... to stop us... all we have to do is act on it.”

 

The dream the idealistic scientist of Dresden strived for, working tirelessly day in and day out, a hope for joy to spread throughout mankind. A beautiful, wonderful world to live in alongside his elder sister and stoic best friend... the world the latter gave his life for when the scientist lost  _his_ world.

 

A light rose in the Silver King's chest.

 

“I respectfully refuse!”

 

“Why?”

 

“ _Because everything is different from seventy years ago!”_

 

The statement left the Ever-Changing King unmoved. “I thought you would like my proposal... but I guess I was wrong. Well, no matter. I'll be taking the Slate by force.”

 

 _Force?_ What left him that confident?

 

“The Blue King foolishly thinks he can suppress the Slate's power, just as the Gold King did. So I was simply going to wait until that rookie exhausted himself...” That was his original plan, at least. “But this calls for a change in plans.”

 

Over the Eternal King's dead body. “Now that I'm back, you won't be able to do as you please.”

 

“I see... I wanted to partner with you and move forward... However, if you wish for confrontation instead... I'm happy to oblige.”

 

Shiro's amber eyes bored into the cold blue of the bird's. The Green King's ambition was too large for having only developed within the short months of a little before October. “Can I confirm one thing?” But, if one were to think back to only a year ago... to _that_ incident... “Is it safe to assume you were the one who dragged me into this little game?”

 

“Oh, so you figured it out?” A hint of delight rang in the Green King's voice.

 

Shiro placed a hand over his heart, tightening his grip on the fabric of his clothing. This body, still so foreign to him, with the face of someone he never knew existed... not even the Blue Clan's Yuishiki System could identify it. “Only you could have pulled a stunt like that.” The one that drove the Colourless King to take action, the one who sent him to attack the Shiro, the one who led to the heart ache and struggles of so, so many people who should have never gotten dragged into this... “Was none other than you!”

 

The Green King listened intently. Removing all traces of one's existence, making death look accidental, providing pivotal data... “All the things I took pains with... were my downfall. I have a habit of being too elaborate.”

 

“Why do all of this just to get to me?”

 

“Because your role is not to be a spectator... it's to be a _player_.” After all, everything did start with him.

 

“Do you intend to control the Slate?” No, the wasn't it. Shiro finally stood up, that light in him shimmering intensely. “Should I say _release_ them?”

 

“If you say so. Just relax and entrust your dream to me.”

 

Shiro clenched his fist, the other King's words picking at more and more of his nerves. “And if I say no?” Finally, wind picked up, his bangs swaying into his eyes, the red umbrella trembling and rolling.

 

“If that's what you want...” The Green King spoke slowly. “Then it's war.”

 

With that careless answer, the bird flew away, feathers falling slowly down to the roof.

 

'If that's what you want...'

 

“I dont' want any of this...” The shimmering light spread from just his chest and throughout the rest of his body, his nerves, his cells, his bloodstream... “But I won't run away anymore.” Not from this world Lieutenant worked so hard for, not from the dear friends and Clansmen Shiro found in Neko and Kuroh, not from all the wonderful memories he made with them and Ashinaka... all of that, right here and now, those were places and people he'd plant his feet on the ground for.

 


	10. Kiln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all chapters can be gems ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also the Animage spoilers won't stop me from writing this AU. It's been six weeks already. I'm not stopping.

“We will attack on the 24th. On Christmas Eve.”

 

The snap of a beer can opening. The aroma is skincare products.

 

“We will summon every ounce of our power to seize the Dresden Slate, the ultimate sacrament.”

 

The tapping of a video game console. The ruffling of feathers being cleaned.

 

In the confined space of the cluttered “base”, the fact that no one listened to the Green King speak became very apparent, very quickly. Consequently, Nagare was forced to stop speaking to try and regain their attention. Or rather, ask if they were paying attention in the first place.

 

“Sure we are, Nagare.” Yukari's lackluster assurance immediately fell behind his own self-commentary, moreso occupied by his skin's condition underneath that mask of his.

 

Regardless, Nagare found it satisfactory and continued on. “Presently, the Slate is kept inside Mihashira Tower.” With the Gold King no longer around to suppress the Slate's power, the Slate should be able to serve its original purpose in evolving humankind. Daikaku Kokujoji's 'replacement', Reisi Munakata, could never hope to be anywhere near as gifted in suppressing and controlling the Slate, thus leaving the Slate untouched where it rested posed Nagare no issue.

 

However, it seemed he underestimated the Blue King, who lasted a most impressively longer time than Nagare anticipated. And as if that wasn't enough, the Silver King finally made his return, and a new Red King came into the world. Those three Kings joined forces to guard Mihashira Tower. Their “coffee table alliance” left <jungle> with no other option but to bring the Slate to their direct control...

 

None of them are really listening at all, to be frank.

 

As if innocent of the same inattention, Mr. Iwa waved his can around and called the younger Clansmen out for their less than helpful behaviour, and ordered them to pay attention.

 

“He may not look it, but he's still our King.” In the middle of attempting to be some stern, authorative figure, he finished his beer only to pick yet another can up immediately after. “Stop fooling around and show the guy some respect.”

 

Seems to the King that he's the one that respects Nagare least.

 

“Don't get me wrong, Nagare.” By now, Yukari completed his beauty ritual, his fave uncovered by cream and being generously admired by himself in his vanity. “I'm just fixing myself up for the upcoming battle... I want to make sure I look gorgeous and elegant as I walk through the battlefield.” His smile deepened. “My heart is filled with excitement... I'm ready to draw my beloved Ayamachi at anytime.”

 

Essentially, everyone had to speak over the loud noise of Sukuna's video game. The boy never faced any of his peers, completely lost in the game's world. “I'm playing games to keep myself busy.” Even after repositioning himself off the floor, his eyes didn't leave the game. “Otherwise, I can't stop myself from wanting to go out and fight. Seriously, I totally get what you're saying, Nagare.”

 

“I see... So both of you are fully prepared.” Most impressive. “After we take the Slate, we'll have a lavish Christmas party and celebrate.”

 

Ecstatic, Kotosaka flapped his wings. “Chicken! Chicken! Juicy and yummy!”

 

“Kotosaka, I expect you to do your fair share too.”

 

“See, Nagare?” Sukuna finally looked up. “We're all pumped up and ready to go.”

 

Mr. Iwa nodded. “You know me. I'll just be relaxing and drinking my beer.”

 

“Say, Nagare.” Yukari leaned over on the couch, and broke up the assuring individual speeches. “Isn't it unusual of you to call an official meeting like this before a job?” He straightened up, hand under his chin. “Could it be that you're starting to feel a little insecure?” After all, he was taking on three Kings.

 

“As if, right Nagare?” Mr. Iwa laughed dismissively.

 

“Well... admittedly, an alliance of the Silver, Red, and Blue Kings _is_ formidable.

 

However...

 

***

 

The Silver Clan walked across the stage, their King smiling and standing behind the podium, his Clansmen on either side of him. In front of him, both the Red and Blue Clan sat down expectantly. Even with their established alliance, it went without saying that neither Clans' Clansmen felt particularly at ease being this close to another, so the middle section of seats ended up completely vacant. To say any of the three Clans were on entirely friendly terms certainly did none of them justice. They weren't enemies, but to call them 'friends' only worked in few, small instances, none of them involving either Clan's Kings.

 

The meeting itself upgraded from a rectangular coffee table in the Silver Clan's home to Ashinaka High School's multi-purpose room, at least.

 

“Greetings. Thank you for coming. How is everyone today?” Silence met his question, along with the various blank and hard faces of his audience. Of course, none of them were too happy. Shiro pressed his hands onto the podium, and spoke clearly, bluntly, still all smiles. “Perhaps in consideration of my position as Silver King, you won't blatantly oppose... however, I do detect a little resentment.” An icy, stiff sense of resentment that clung to them. He couldn't blame them, what with his frequent summoning of them and his taking charge. First and Silver King or not, his absence didn't go unnoticed, nor without its consequences.

 

Fitting of the meeting's setting, HOMRA's No. 2 rose his hand. “May I speak clearly, Silver King?”

 

“By all means.”

 

“Now we're goin' on the premise that the Green Clan will attack Mihashira Tower to steal the Slate... Are you sure about this?”

 

Shiro nodded. “Yes. And if they do get the Slate, then the world order which the Lieutenant--” Ah... he really needed to stop doing that. “...I mean the Gold King and the Blue King here have worked so hard to preserve... would collapse.” The turning of the latter's right hand did not go unnoticed, but Shiro hardly paid attention to it anyway. “At the very least, the world that you and I know would cease to exist.” For him personally, that was a very small, small world consisting of very few people and places, and he wouldn't accept the Green Clan's motives. “The Green Clan's goal is to pass on the Slate's power to all of mankind.”

 

Kusanagi looked over to Anna, who sat perfectly still and silent, and it was obvious she had no commentary to add at this point in time. “I believe I can speak for the Red, and probably the Blue Clan over there, when I say none of us question your status as King.” On a technical point, there was no questioning it – the Slate was hardly holy, but its choices over Kings was close enough to the word of God. However, his qualifications as the ringleader of this little operation were fair game. “To be frank, I dunno if you have what it takes.”

 

The claim mostly dusted off Shiro as soon as it came out, but his Clansmen thought differently.

 

“This man is more than qualified for this task,” Kuroh stated. His smooth confidence surprised even Shiro. “He has the brains, the leadership skills, and good judgement.” He added nothing else. Just that.

 

“Kuro, thank you. You too, Kusanagi. You played devil's advocate for everyone, right?”

 

The reason he directed this counterattack was simple: he knew everything there's to know about the Green King. He was a King who challenged the Gold King on his own. Images of that incident remained intact to this day thanks to the Lieutenant passing that knowledge onto him, along with giving Shiro his own account of it.

 

“May I speak, Silver King?” This time, Scepter 4's lieutenant raised her hand.

 

“Of course. And please, call me Shiro.” Even in times of a meeting, Shiro felt no attachment to formal addresses and the like.

 

Awashima stood up. “If I may be frank, I can't believe all this.” Shiro couldn't blame her. “Why would the Green King issue such a reckless challenge?”

 

Oh, Shiro wouldn't call it a reckless challenge. Even after the challenge ended in the Green King's loss, the fact he held his ground at one point of it was indisputable. In fact, againt the most powerful King, the fight was nearly even. Granted his excuse for wanting to challenge the Gold King was downright ridiculous.

 

'I wanted to challenge the final boss.'

 

Childish. A real messed up guy. The defeat led to his elusive, hidden nature, and his Clan only moved now with the Lieutenant's passing. Like a kid who waited for his parents to leave the house before leaving it himself to purchase some excessively violent video game he wasn't allowed to have in their presence, and proceeding to play it whenever they left his sight.

 

“The Lieutenant's no longer here... that's why I'd like to command this counterattack.” He knew how to defeat Nagare Hisui, the King who was unbelieveably strong, but not without his own achiles heel. He knews the means of defeating him, but he needed to rely on the support of those in front of him before that could ever become reality.

 

“I'll do it.” Quietly, Anna spoke up, and her voice strengthened with her next declaration. “I'll help you. The Red Clan will help.”

 

“Thank you.” Now for the hard part. “What about the Blue Clan?”

 

Arms crossed, Munakata plainly put that his Clan's cooperation depended on Shiro's strategy. Naturally.

 

The black screen behind them revealed two images: Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo, the Green King's top tier. There was no way their King would be at the forefront, the manpower behind just his two prime Clansmen would be enough to send everything to hell, so keeping them at bay was the priority.

 

“As for this next one...” The image changed to Akina's. “Akina Manju. She claimed to be a J-rank, but there's no trace of her within the website JUNGLE, and she never participated in the Mihashira Tower incident. She definitely operates with the Clan, but despite having the same benefits as J-rank Clansmen, she has no affiliation with its website. She's been granted those powers because of some other me-.”

 

“What relevance does that hold to this?” Fushimi cut in without warning. “All we have to do is take care of her. Knowing her life's story isn't important.”

 

Shiro smiled. “But I would think that it would in terms of keeping track of all three of these people properly.” He nodded at the third-in-command's clicking tongue. “Short story short, she's a Strain, able to turn herself nearly entirely invisible.” He looked to Munakata. “Does someone like that sound familiar?”

 

After a brief pause, Munakata adjusted his glasses. “That girl doesn't exist in our registry.”

 

“Along with multiple other Strains you've come across since the influx of Strains acting, right?”

 

The Blue King met Shiro's stare. “Where are you going with this?”

 

A seemingly disproportionate amount of Strains emerging ever since the Mihashira Tower incident, and maybe even before then, all of their abilities and risk levels ranging from minuscule to fearsome, and none of them registered. Ideally, the organisation of Strains between Timeless Palace and Scepter 4's efforts left that as a nearly impossible scenario, yet here they were.

 

“If you were to just say this straightforwardly, you're implying <jungle> somehow tampered with our records?”

 

Shiro shook his head. “No. It's not <jungle>. In fact, I only have suspicions, nothing solid to work off of.”

 

“I'd prefer getting to the point of what we do know than going off of suspicions.”

 

In HOMRA's section, Yata nodded. “Yeah! We get the point! Strains screwing around isn't new!”

 

Shiro's gut instinct told him to brush the dismissal off. Although he only he suspicions, nothing solid to go off of, this definitely wasn't something to leave anyone out of, especially the Blue King himself. However, at the same time, along with the agitation and resentment mixed and cooped up in the lecture hall, an unsaid anxiety from Clansmen riddled their expressions, whether they knew it or not. To stack onto that, to stack onto more uncertainties in the middle of something they _finally_ had a grasp of...

 

Right.

 

What mattered most at this very moment, was their counterattack against <jungle>'s game plan.

 

Now was the time to delve into that...

 

***  
  
Delving into strategy is so tiring. Shiro tugged the collar of his shirt, letting out a long sigh of relief that that was over. He really underestimated how warm it would get when he spoke.

 

“I think the strategy makes sense.” Praising Shiro, Kusanagi casually walked up to him, Anna next to him. “Let's do our best.”

 

“Thank you, Kusanagi. I'm counting on you too, Anna.”

 

“That you can.”

 

“By the way...” Contrasting the warmer mood, Kusanagi looked over to the Blue King, speaking urgently, yet silently, to his own top tier. “What's your opinion of that personage? He doesn't let on what he's thinking. Can we count on him or not?”

 

Shiro didn't know, really, but they couldn't win without him. Their opponent's strength made everyone's cooperation essential.

 

“Reisi...” Betraying her usual poker face, Anna's expression dropped while she watched the exiting back of the Blue King.

 

Shiro directed a smile at her, then focused on the empty doorway. “In any case, since the Lieutenant passed away, he's the one that's been suppressing the Slate... all by himself.” Without a King's strength to restrain it, the Slate's power would spread through all mankind without any limits. That's an exhausting burden to bear, so Munakata's reserves against Shiro didn't go without merit. Everyone, Shiro himself in particular... _must_ be grateful to him, and that wasn't up for debate.

 

***  
  


On Christmas Eve, Mihashira Tower's ground floor erupted into chaos.

_  
“Two Green Clansmen sighted! It's Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo!”_

 

The faulty recording revealed the younger one somersaulting his way in, while the other calmly walked forth with the King's medium on his shoulder, and both waved to the camera before the surveillance cameras were destroyed.

 

Seri prepped herself. “Here they come! Men! Draw your swords!”

 

An X cut right through the reinforced doors of the tower, and through the explosion and smoke, Sukuna Gojo whirled into sight, the blade of his scythe glowing brilliantly. Close behind him, Yukari Mishakuji walked in.

 

“Merry Christmas!”

 

Ignoring his exclamation, Gojo immediately set his sights onto Seri, and spun the scythe around expertly. “The only one worth any points is their number two!” He darted straight forward her, jumping only a few feet ahead of her, and dove down.

 

The impact of his scythe against _Bellflower_ vibrated straight through her shoulder, and soon, the energy of the Blue Aura replaced that sensation, and spun right for Gojo, forcing him back. He landed without difficulty, but Seri's success in deflecting him clearly frustrated him right off the bat, and it seemed her calm stance irritated him even more.

 

Ultimately, his irritation wasn't important. Seri kept her back to her men, but addressed them clearly. “Don't let them get the best of you! Stay on your guard!”

 

Don't let them get past. Keep them on this floor for as long as possible, but don't let them gain the upper hand. If they pushed the unit back, then that was to be expected. Whatever happened, don't let them get to the Slate nor the Captain.

 

Gojo recovered from his frustration quickly, going in for a second attack. This time, Seri didn't grace him with getting too close. She cast two blue strikes from her sabre, and they intersected into an arrow heading straight for the boy. Reflexively, he whisked to the side, somehow with enough momentum to keep advancing. At the last second, a huge blue wall loomed over him, but he managed to stop himself from smacking into it.

 

Annoyed, he swung his scythe in the other Scepter 4 members' direction. “Hey! Keep outta this! I don't want lame ass points like you guys!”

 

His outburst left him open for an attack. Seri issued a less elaborate one this time, only sending a crackling amount of it towards him, and he barely noticed it before quickly flipping the scythe around in order to lessen its effectiveness.

 

“If you so desperately want me to be your opponent, I'll oblige.” Seri stood unperturbed, Gojo's growing irritation not the least bit affecting her performance. Granted, she couldn't afford to keep her full attention on him, given the fact that Mishakuji still kept in the same area. Yet, more worriedly, he didn't do anything. The most he would do was say some smart aleck comment or absently mention to Gojo in a light tone, but ultimately, he contributed nothing.

 

_Has he caught on already?_

 

A film of worry wrapped around Seri's heart, but she pushed it to the side. By now, Gojo once more jumped back into action, this time the both of them swept up in a give and take of blows. He was fast, dynamic, and incredibly persistent, and kept rambling on about points and his irritation.

 

That didn't matter. His attitude didn't matter. What matter was that Seri and the others were able to keep the two at bay for as along as possible. For everyone's sake.

 

***

  
The sound of battle echoed throughout Mihashira Tower.

 

“Sounds like it's started.” Next to Shiro, Kuroh stood calmly. “Shiro, I have utmost faith in your strategy, but are you sure about this? Leaving the ground floor just to the Blue Clan?”

 

At ease, Shiro nodded. “As I explained during out meeting, the first move is to stymie the Green King's top tier as much as possible.” For those two, their goal was to weaken the other three Clans' fighting power, so, really, this first part of Shiro's strategy was fighting fire with fire. Of course, he told Awashima to withdraw her men when she felt it right. No need to worry.

 

As for the Green King, he's almost invincible. Shiro slightly doubted that between him, Anna, and Munakata, they'd be able to take the Green King out if he got serious. It was more likely that he could take down every single person in this building single-handedly. But that power had a limit. Once the gauge of that special attack emptied, that was it.

 

Kuroh's eyes still remained a sea of calm. “I see...”

 

“Meow!” Before silence had an opportunity to settle in, Neko suddenly sprung up between the King and Black Dog, and the tassels of her poncho succeeded in hitting both of the sides of their heads. She looked to Shiro with bright eyes. “Hey Shiro, isn't this is pretty exciting?”

 

Kuroh's face scrunched up. “What are you talking about?”

 

Infectious joy resonated from Neko. “I mean Shiro's here... And Kurosuke's here... we're all together!” By that last magic word, she pulled the two into a hug. “We're all working together to do our very best! And that makes me happy inside!” She laughed confidently, perfectly content.

 

“Good grief...” Unable to resist the positive vibes, Kuroh smiled. “You're always so optimistic.”

 

“Yes, she is.” Shiro couldn't agree more, and he was more than happy to join in on the smiling. “We're all in on this, so it'll be okay.” Without thinking, he kept talking. “After this, we'll have a grand Christmas celebration.”

 

***  
  


Scepter 4's battle again the two on the ground floor continued. More accurately put, Sukuna pressed onward, whereas Yukari merely kept his eye on all the messy, wild movement everyone participated in. Scepter 4's lieutenant held her own against Sukuna, but she allowed the boy to push her and her men back, rarely advancing and only doing what was necessary in keeping Sukuna unsuccessful in his own efforts.

 

“This chick is really starting to piss me off!”

 

Honestly, how transparent.

  
“Sukuna! Don't go after her.”

 

Sukuna froze. More out of discouragement than obedience, he lowered his scythe. “But...”

 

Yukari expressed nothing short of stern discipline. “You know the drill, right?” He pointed up. “We should be heading _up_.”

 

“Up! Up!”

 

Their King power, no matter how amazing, lasted only a short time. The task of his Clansmen was to clear the way for him as much as possible. Not get wrapped up in silly, sloppy battles.

 

Sukuna rested the scythe on his shoulder. He hated to admit it, but Yukari was right. This wasn't the place to use up their resources.

 

Yukari glanced about the floor. Certainly, the Blue Clan concocted a lavish plan, but ultimately, it was useless. Compared to them, he was this beautiful, blooming flower amongst the rich green of <jungle>. Scepter 4, HOMRA, the Silver Clan. All of them acted as merely nutrients for <jungle> to feed on.

 

The swordsman did some elaborate, random movements and posed with great poise “All you do is make us look better.”

 

His insight went unappreciated. Sighing, Sukuna completely shut him down. “Yeah, whatever...”

 

***

 

The marble in Shiro's hand cast a luminous red. “My, my... the new Red King's power sure is convenient. With this, we can communicate without interference from the Greens.” More or less, it was a variation of 'sharing' the world with others via her marbles as a medium. “Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo have infiltrated the tower. Everyone, let's do this.”

 

The Red King glowing with all her power to protect the ones she cared about, the Blue King monitoring the well-being of the Slate, his right-hand rallying her men's morale and prepping for a pincher attack against their opponents, they're all in this.

 

***

 

“ _Our cameras have picked up Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo on the tenth floor!”_

 

A full course of traps set up. Several security measures within Mihashira's Tower. All against the swordsman effortlessly cutting through steel with his beloved sword and joyfully singing to himself. Needle ceilings, pit falls, electric shocks... all cleared. By the eleventh floor, they've only separated the two <jungle> aces, and between the two of them, there's only minimal damage.

 

The Reds had Gojo covered, and no the Silver Clan would surrounded Mishakuji to take him down. Without Fushimi's grasp of the tower's layout, this would have been impossible.

 

“So the brat we're supposed to deal with,” Rikio started, “think it's about time he showed up?”

 

“Yeah... that's one thing I'll thank Shiro for,” Yata admitted. There wasn't much reluctance in his tone, either. For HOMRA to have the one that created that godforsaken 'game' and made a mockery of Mikoto and Totsuka over, that's fitting. “That brat's gonna pay for what he did!”

 

An explosion shook the floor, and the door shortly sported that recognisable X before being destroyed. The energy to the attack was different from Gojo, though. More controlled in a sense. The smoke parted for a tall figure to walk through.

 

Drenched from the building's sprinklers, Yukari Mishakuji entered the fray.

 

“Oh?”

 

Yata didn't share his nonchalant attitude. “What the hell?! Why's the fucking show-off here Monkey?!”

 

“ _These two are ridiculously strong! If they got switched then that's a bit of a headache! If you care so much take care of it yourself!”_

 

“This is unexpected.” A low, husky voice rang in, and the appearance of a tall, blond-haired woman followed it. “I was anticipating the Boy Wonder, but the other one hopped in instead.” She waved a fan in front of her and sighed heavily. “Personally, I don't want to apply myself more than necessary... if it's you, then I doubt I have to do much of anything.”

 

A sense of urgency didn't wash over HOMRA just yet. Towards Mishakuji, there was definitely some form of panic, but the unfamiliar woman who showed up wasn't even able to stir a response short of speechlessness. How she got in undetected, who she was, and how she got here before HOMRA was all a mystery.

 

Finally, Yata broke up HOMRA's silence. “Who the hell are you?! When did you get here?!”

 

His snap surprised the woman. “I had a friend get me here. It wasn't hard. Are you sure that's what you should be worried about? There's a huge power gap between the opponent you expected and one the you got.”

 

“Heh! Screw any gap!” Yata retorted. He roughly pointed at the woman, his staring obviously focused on her left clera. “what I wanna know is how you got here and who you are! Cos all I know is that your eye gives me the creeps!”

 

At that, the woman frowned. “It's rude to insult someone's scars like that. You don't see me making fun of the one on your left collarbone.”

 

The remark sucked the energy out of Yata. His confidence didn't waver, but it was replaced by a silent, boiling anger.

 

Rikio placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Yata...”

 

Ignoring him, Yata turned to Kusanagi. “Hey, Kusanagi...”

 

The bartender blew a puff of smoke out. “Stick to your guns.”

 

“...right.”

 

Because of that exchange, Yata resisted the urge to knock the woman down on her ass right then and there. Inside him, a storm stirred, but he knew better than blow everything the three Clans worked together to develop. They had a plan to stick to. He looked between Mishakuji and the tall, deep-voiced woman, and positioned himself on his skateboard. The urge to fight lingered, but he had to focus that energy on deterring them, and as much as he hate to admit it, that fucking show-off wasn't someone he could go up against, and he had no idea of the woman's capabilities.

 

So just keep these assholes on this floor for as long as possible?

 

_Fine._

 

***

 

The Silver Clan stayed at their post, their King with his cool head, the vassal standing, ready for anything at any given moment, and the Strain on the look-out in her feline form.

 

“The three Clans will put their all into stopping Mishakuji and Gojo... then the Silver, Red, and Blue Kings will attack the Green King. I suppose this is the only option we have left. However...” Still next to Shiro, Kuroh trailed off mid-sentence, his eyes looking down on the floor.

 

“Kuro? What is it?”

 

“I'm disappointed in myself.” Although he criticised himself, Kuroh smiled bitterly. “If only I were stronger... if only I could at least handle Yukari Mishakuji on my own... it would make this battle easier on you.”

 

Shiro put a hand on Kuroh's shoulders. “I've only heard stories, but I don't believe you're inferior to him.” In reality, Shiro's certain that Kuroh simply couldn't fully access his power as a Silver Clansman. “I think your strength really shows when you...”

 

At his feet, Neko popped back into herself, and she stared intently down the hall. “Shiro! Something's closing in!”

 

“Yukari Mishakuji? Neko, if that parrot comes, take care of it, will you?”

 

“You bet! I'll turn him into roasted chicken and eat it for Christmas dinner!”

 

No.

 

Just now, the one who bursted in wasn't Yukari Mishakuji.

 

“Hm, the Silver King?” Sukuna Gojo perked up from a shortly serious expression. “Imagine, encountering the final boss here, of all places!” His spun the scythe over his head. “I was getting irritated by all the traps, but... lucky me!”

 

Ready to pounce, Neko told Shiro they ought to get him now, and Kuroh drew Kotowari without hesitation.

 

Gojo sprung forward, and feinted an attack at Shiro, scattering to the side at the last minute and heading straight for Kuroh. “Time for the mid-boss!” The vassal utilised both his sword and sheathe, easily deflecting Gojo's attacks, and succeeded in jumping over him the head of his sheathe slamming right into the boy's back and crashing him down into the floor.

 

Shiro watched him jump back into action calmly. “Neko!”  
  
“On it!” A distortion bubble of rose petals twisted the air, and then formed a rising sea of bubbles obstructing Gojo's view. His frustration and confusion distracted him from Kuroh's ambush, and he slammed down to the floor again.

 

“Not fair!”

 

Shiro hummed to himself. Imagine that, a <jungle> Clansmen complaining about _fairness_ “Complain all you want~.”

 

“Uh-oh, Shiro's got that evil look on his face!”

 

He sure does.

 

Now then. Sukuna Gojo. “This is as far as you go,” Shiro warned, “it's the end for you as a fighting power.”

 

“'The end' my ass!”

 

He moved to get up, but someone yanked him back. The newcomer kept crouched on the floor and had a firm grip on Gojo's shoulders, who squirmed underneath.

 

“Akina! Why the hell are you--”

 

“Akina... told me to stay out of the Silver Clan's fight, but you're not the one I expected.”

 

Shiro smiled pleasantly at him. Someone like Akina was tricky enough to use her ability to bypass security and keep herself hidden, and had the smarts to use it so fellow Strains could sneak their way in undetected. He couldn't help but commend her under his breath, and nodded at the newcomer Strain. Gojo struggled under his grip, pissed off that someone he barely knew acted as if he could tell him what to do, but the older boy had no problem forcing him to stay in place.

 

Neko jumped ahead of him. “Shiro, what do we do now?” She threw her hands up in the air. “We can take 'em on!”

 

“Not right now, Kuroh has it covered for both of us, right, Black Dog?”

 

The man nodded wordlessly. “Following your strategy, I don't feel the least bit concerned. Rather... I feel lighter than usual. I suppose that's because of your presence.”

 

“Uh huh! I feel the same way, Shiro!” To emphasise her support of Kuroh's claim, Neko bounced around, somehow managing to speak over the rapid ringing of her bells. “It's a really cool feeling!”

 

So it was a light feeling?

 

Absently spinning his umbrella, Shiro couldn't fathom how.

 

***

 

In a large, plain white dining room, Douhan sat across from a short, burgundy-haired girl with far-off brown eyes. In between them where a porcelain tea set and a single violet orchid in a white vase.

 

The only reason Douhan ended up here was because the girl in question summoned her, supposedly with something important she wanted to talk about. Yet, when Douhan asked what was so important, she laughed lightly and admitted to lying. She had nothing important on her mind, not even an explanation for PRiSM's interest in the blonde, just an unshakable urge to speak to one of <jungle>'s former Clansmen. In an effort to endear herself, she complimented Douhan's sense of fashion, particularly her boots, but complained about how her own 'cutesy' sense of style wouldn't be able to pull the boots off. Although she said that, there was one piece of clothing she wore that didn't fit the description of 'cutesy'.

 

“That jacket doesn't seem your style,” Douhan commented. She didn't know why she felt compelled to point it out, but the contrast of the girl's pastel outfit and her black, embroidered jacket just seemed so... out of place together.

 

The girl fiddled with her jacket, and made it wrap around her more, keeping a strong grip on the collar. “It wasn't originally mine...” She smiled warmly, and her voice drifted off. “Someone I love dearly gave it to me. It's the only jacket she had, though, so I worry about how cold she must get lately.” She traced the intricate design on the chair's back for a good minute before finally sitting down. She picked up the cup of tea and deeply inhaled with a content expression. “Actually, speaking of her, she was always really good at making this sorta tea. She's awful at cooking, but stuff like tea... she's phenomenal at.”

 

Personally, Douhan didn't have much to say to this girl, and her topic wasn't something Douhan had any interest in. It seemed more like she just wanted to talk for the sake of talking, not to get to get to know Douhan at all. Still, she wasn't annoying, so Douhan at the least kept listening to her talk, sipping at her own cup of tea. It sent warmth through her body, and almost felt calming.

 

Fuyu stopped talking altogether, drinking the tea in more heartier gulps, often reaching over for the teapot to refill her cup.

 

“Miss Hirasaka, I know you're not much for sentimental junk,” she said, “and I'm sure my talking to you isn't what you anticipated since being dragged here, but... I think you'll like it here. This place is a lot nicer than <jungle>'s.”

 

“I wouldn't know.” And Douhan didn't take Fuyu as the type who would know either.

 

Ignoring the curious look Douhan shot her, Fuyu repeatedly folded and unfolded a napkin, and looked down in her lap with a much weaker smile. “Right now, <jungle> made their move against Mihashira Tower, but the Silver King's triumvirate already developed a counterattack against them.” She took a long, long drink of her tea. “They sure are going at it. And the Silver King knows about PRiSM, too...”

 

Against her better judgement, Douhan asked if Fuyu was worried about something.

 

The girl faltered and widened her eyes. “Ah...” She bit her lower lip, chewing slightly on the skin, and held the napkin over her heart. “Worried... well... yes, maybe? But only for four or five people. Yeah. Four or five.” She shifted rigidly in her seat, avoiding Douhan's sharp eyes. “Everyone?” She bit her lip. “No, no... not everyone. Four or five people, maybe? That sounds about right. Anyway, enough about me.” Fuyu perked up, that soft smile of hers returning. “How are you, really?”

 

Hesitant, Douhan leaned back in her chair. Admittedly, how huge this place was somehow gave her a sense of satisfaction. It certainly beat the cramped cell she'd been in not long too ago. She could stretch and move, and breathe in fresh air. “This place is an improvement, but I still don't get why your King wants me to work for her.”

 

“Because you're good at what you do. Frankly, Doctor doesn't think too much of the person who got you arrested. She doesn't think it reflects your capabilities, since you weren't in top condition.”

 

“If someone in a poor condition can only manage a poor job, there's no use for them when their contributions actually matter.”

 

“...” Fuyu cluelessly smiled. “To each their own? In any case, it's pretty simple: just do what's expected of you. Doctor said you're talented in recon, combat, and have huge potential for being great at negotiations.”

 

Douhan's brow furrowed. Negotiations? Like hell.

 

“That's just what she said,” Fuyu laughed, “and as far as now, goes, you'll do best managing other Clansmen and employees. For a nice paycheck. By the way, you like pizza sushi, right? I can ask someone to make some as a welcoming present.”

 

A welcoming-- “That isn't necessary.” Douhan held her hand up with a shake of her head. The new armour was odd enough, and she made a point of avoiding a door that literally had her name on it on the third floor. The last thing she wanted was some random person making her something to eat. Besides, she couldn't eat something knowing someone investigated her to the point of learning her likes and dislikes.

 

“Hmm?” Fuyu blinked and tilted her head. “Investigating? No one investigated you, Miss Hirasaka. Well, not to _that_ extent.”

 

For a King, she sure was spacey. “Then how did you know about my favourite food?”

 

“I just did.”

 

Douhan couldn't find a trace of hidden meaning in Fuyu's answer. In fact, the earnest tone in it almost unsettled her. She 'just' knew? Gut instincts and intuition were one thing, but there was no way Fuyu could have guessed something so _specific_. Then again, she _was_ a King. The Colourless King. From what Douhan knew, the Colourless King's abilities changed every incarnation, and while Douhan never bothered learning about the previous two Kings, this one... seemed dangerous to overlook. To be able to find things out without any actual means to do so...

 

“You're clairvoyant,” Douhan concluded.

 

Instead of answering, Fuyu began looking around the plainly designed dining room. “'Clair', for 'clear'. French specifically. 'Voyance' for 'vision'. Clairvoyance, clear-seeing, allows a person to obtain knowledge and experiences from an almost entirely visual perspective within their mind.” Her fingers tapped the table. “Miss Hirasaka, I know things, I don't see them. Wouldn't you agree that clairvoyance is a poor guess?”

 

Douhan said nothing.

 

Self-occupied, Fuyu tugged at her own bangs. “You're half right, in a way. My power _is_ a clair sense. But it's not clairvoyance. Not once have I ever visually seen the things I learn.” She tapped the side of her head. “In my case, I don't _see_ , I _know_. Cognitive, from 'cogn', 'to learn'. Claircognizance. I know what I learn, I don't need to be told nor shown a thing.”

 

Ironically, she didn't speak as if she knew this off the top of her head. More like she was reciting a lesson. Douhan assumed that the Violet King informed her a great deal on such an ability. She offered no input, expecting Fuyu to continue on.

 

After pulling a dark green leaf off the orchid, Fuyu nodded to herself, standing up. “It's not even my natural ability as a _Strain_.” She took on a whinier tone, like she was moping or satisfied. “But when I awakened, this awful slew of knowledge just... spewed into my head, and wouldn't stop.” She laughed. “It sucked so much. I didn't care what the stupid Slate was, let alone all the other Kings before me. My head pounded and I felt so, so sick.”

 

Her reasoning behind talking about herself so freely to Douhan remained a mystery, but the businesswoman couldn't help but tune into the girl's story.

According to Fuyu, her awakening was indeed a spectacle. She'd been working in an antique shop PRiSM owned down in Kiba, helping its manager arrange and polish older antiques like vases and the like. Unfortunately, while putting things on a high shelf, some group of JUNGLE participants must have received some sort of mission ordering them to mess around with PRiSM territory. Yet a rubber band in her brain snapped from panic, and a burst of power catapulted through her.

Truthfully, she had no recollection of how the fall didn't harm her. She only recalled a very faint, weightless sensation, as if she completely disconnected from her mind and body, and the Slate's very existence poured over her soul and conscience. She hated the experience, and felt as if she screamed loud and high enough to completely sever her vocal cords. Even with such a weak Kingly position, there was nothing calming or blissful about the awakening. Rather, it was like she just gradually lost herself in the Slate's powers, like it wanted less of someone just to uphold the position and balance it so keenly kept in check and more of just some vessel to dump leftover power into.

Yet at the same time, she knew she was okay. She was miserable, terrified, and not at all herself in that long, weightless moment, but she was fine, and this was meant to happen. That self-awareness barely assured her, like a thin, secure shroud, but allowed her some peace of mind after it ended. Based on her position, though, she was more a girl in a sudden catatonic state than one writhing in pain. She couldn't see a thing and that overwhelming Aura felt like it rip her apart from the inside at any second. She ended up rushedly text messaging Akina for help or support or _something_.

Pulling the chair back out, Fuyu paused. “By the time she got to the store I was bawling my eyes out and clinging to her like no other. And after that feeling of being saved by own personal knight, everything went downhill for us.”

  
  


The minute she sat back down, she layed her head on the table. “In the past, I really wondered why I couldn't bring myself to hate them... they ruined everything I had, and that isn't much. They stole my world from me. They stole my freedom. They stole my peace of mind. They stole my right to make my own decisions. Their dream is a huge dream that crushes small dreams like mine. But... but...” The more she spoke, the shakier her voice got, and she shrunk more and more into herself, as if trying to disappear. “I end up settling with 'Things could have gone worse. So in a way I'm thankful. They could b ea lot worse to us, At least they have a dream I look forward to. Hoping they win so none of this was a waste''.” She sighed loudly, sliding down in her chair. “I'm way too tired of myself to hate them.” She was barely audible, close to a disembodied voice than anything else. Douhan's instinct warned her not to pry on the details. Whatever between those two girls and <jungle> wasn't her business, and any effort Fuyu might make to explain herself would probably snap her in half.

 

An empty emotion from Fuyu spread within the dining room. 'Empty' was the best way Douhan could put it. It didn't feel heavy, but it certainly existed, and profoundly, at that. It wasn't even that strong, and, gradually, something else took it over. A potent, thick feeling, like a supercell engulfing a mild spring day. It grew slowly, a feeling like no other, and all of Douhan's instincts warned her of something far greater in store. Such intensity couldn't have come from Fuyu.

 

The girl only slowly lifted her head with a void expression. Still, even without Fuyu saying a word, Douhan swore she knew what just happened.

 

Fuyu smiled wearily. “The Fifth King's made his decision.”

  
***

 

 

“Well now, they're really putting up a fight. I'd say we cleared... about 70%.”

 

Book in hand, Iwa smile . “Think we got here a bit too early?”

 

No. Not at all. Now... was the time for Nagare to act. Three Kings present or not, he couldn't wait any longer for Yukari and Sukuna to clear a path for him. Right, even to the man at his side, like a father to him, telling him to wait, he wouldn't listen. He would do as he pleased.

 

The alliance between the Silver, Red, and Blue Clan was powerful, but for him...

 

“It's an easy win!”

 

Without difficulty, he stood up, bolts of green electricity curving around the wheelchair and him. As soon as he stepped onto solid ground, that gloomy, dark teal of his hair and clothes ripped away in brilliant white hair and robes. Energy surged through every cell and nerve of his body, and, soon, the man warped into _'change'_ itself.

 


	11. Kerosene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is this episode was really redundant so... kinda omitted. A lot of redundancy as more or less omitted.

Finally, the Green King could cut loose. For years, he waited for this one opportunity. To reach the Slate, his dream.

 

No no, calling it a dream makes it sound unattainable in the first place. It'd be more appropriate to call it his _goal_.

 

Taking a huge gulp of his booze, Iwa laughed, raising the can up in the air as a sort of toast to the Green King. Right, good luck to him in reaching his goal, and good luck to anyone trying to stop him from reaching it. They had what? Two days to think up of a plan to stop a man who had _years_ of planning under his belt? There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell they could stop him now. But hey, props for not just throwing in the towel.

 

As of now, Nagare had this covered, Iwa just had to make his appearance in a reasonable manner, and he had time to spare before then. That Clan of 'trump cards' didn't show up yet, so making a move now would be too hasty.

 

Granted, waiting here was a bit too treacherous an action. Nagare's crashing through everything resulted in huge pieces of the building falling in on itself, and one nearly hit him just now. He can't afford to get his head smashed in by bits of the tower and expect himself to such a bloody first impression on the other Kings, so he could afford to walk ahead some.

 

He's not three-fourths down the first corridor of the next few floors before spotting Akina resting against a wall. Any other time, he'd give her flack for most likely slacking off, but given her stance, she was just resting up what little she could given the situation. Casually, Iwa waved at her to get her attention.

 

“Tired?” In order to bypass gratuitous amounts of security and people, she had to mix and manipulate her abilities as a Strain and J-rank, and _then_ extend them to PRiSM's top two. Her being tired wouldn't be a surprise.

 

Arms crossed, the silent girl shook her head, moving off the pillar with a kick of her heel. She walked beside Iwa in without a word, looking dead ahead. Her usual crass indifference sure didn't leave a good impression on others, but Iwa couldn't deny that she had the competence of any of the other two J-ranks. She earned her place for a reason.

 

Iwa still made an effort to get something outta her. “Anyway, you can still get some of your strength back up. We won't be needing it for a good several floors, and PRiSM's already established that they'll do most of the grunt work.” Nothing still. “Working alongside them sure makes things go smoother. Kame's always been a genius at group efforts, right?” Even by bringing up the girl's former King, he got nothing in response. She really did avoid having any sort of conversation with him. Hell, she managed more conversation with Yukari than him. Talk about scorn.

 

Akina knew better than to act on her own accord, but she walked briskly, making a point of getting as far away from Iwa as she could. She surpassed giving the cold shoulder and, in her own mind most likely, went straight to dumping dry ice all over him in his sleep. Or maybe locking him in a chamber of liquid nitrogen. Whichever worked for her, he supposed.

 

Whichever method she preferred didn't matter. Ultimately, she knew to do her role in <jungle> and keep it at that, and her indignation didn't affect Iwa in the least.

 

The tower shook once more, and along with it, water dripped down from the holes forming in its centre.

 

About time.

 

***

 

Damn it! _Damn it!_

 

Against the Silver Clan, Sukuna could tell. He saw it in their damned King's eyes, theard it in the way the Strain laughed, and sensed it with every attack the Black Dog made. None of them took Sukuna seriously. They saw a kid through semi-pitying eyes and kept telling him to cease the battle.

 

For whatever asinine reason, that fucking dog especially made it his business to go on about how 'a battle doesn't determine the result' or whatever the hell he was going on about. Whatever he was saying wasn't his freaking business. Maybe he wasn't putting his life on the line for anything, but for this game of Nagare's, Sukuna sure as hell was.

 

He planned for a large attack, something to really shake the dog off his own game. If he wanted to act all high and mighty about this fight, then fine, Sukuna would just take him down a few hundred notches. Just one good hit, just _one_ , and Sukuna could finish this. He felt it in his bones.

 

The moment his scythe and the dog's sword almost collided, a huge circle crashed through the floor. No, that was floor. Floor cut out from one of the higher floors that somehow fell this entire way down.

 

'Somehow', seeing Yukari sitting down on it without a scratch on him was enough of an explanation for Sukuna. “What the hell're you doing here?”

 

The man smiled. “Sukuna, we have to go. Nagare's already on the move.”

 

Move smove - Sukuna wasn't in the mood for Yukari interrupting. 'Sides, if he got rid of the Silver Clan, the dog in particular, they'd be in a way better spot with everything game wise. “I'm not done with them! Outta the way!”

 

“I'm telling you, we're done here. Besides, you know better than to test your luck against Kuroh, don't you? I _did_ tell you what would happen if you got in the way of our destined clash.”

 

Ayamachi swung right below his jaw, barely scraping his throat, and Yukari's smile disappeared. “Now enough of that yelling. Throwing a temper tantrum is so unsightly, Sukuna.” There was no compromising with him, no way of making any protests, not in this position Sukuna found himself in.

 

The one swinging his sword around when he almost doesn't get his way isn't the one throwing a temper tantrum? The question almost slipped out of Sukuna's mouth, but one look at Yukari's expressions told him better than drag out an argument.

 

That sleepy-eyed guy, however, didn't agree. He tugged Sukuna back, and managed to step between him and Ayamachi, not once looking Yukari in the eye, only the sword. “This... this isn't necessary.”

 

Behind him, Sukuna felt the faintest bit of wariness. Even he knew better than to test Yukari's patience when it came to Kuroh, but here this guy was trying to tell him what was and wasn't necessary. He either stuttered or hesitated with every word, not an ounce f confidence in his voice nor stance. The fact he kept talking was admirable, in a sense, but he probably was just digging himself a hole too deep to climb out of.

 

“I don't think destiny wants you to fight him, if it's something you need to call dibs on.” He had no fear in his tired eyes. On the other hand, that rare, irritated expression of Yukari's appeared, yet he remained on the pedestal.

 

The air between the two of them was uneasy and tense.. From Sukuna's experience, he knew the two rarely interacted, so he couldn't imagine how thing would go if they'd have something against each other. Shiki really didn't seem the type who had the guts to fight, either.

 

Eventually, Yukari seemed to ease up. He laughed, sheathing Ayamachi and jumping off the stone. “You're honest. I can't dislike that about you. However...” His voice lowered into a slight edge. “You haven't any understanding what 'destiny' really means. Keep that in mind. Sukuna, let's go.”

 

Sukuna tilted his head, pointing over at the pale guy with his scythe. “What about him? He's gotta come too, right?”

 

“No, he still has a role to play, right, Shiki?” Yukari asked.

 

No Sukuna didn't care that much for a five hour answer. He gave Shiki no opportunity to reply, spinning his scythe rapidly and casting a powerful burst of the bright green Aura through the tower's wall, opening up an exit for everyone. “Let's just go, then.” Knowing Yukari, he still had more to say to the Silver Clan and, more specifically, Kuroh, but god, did Sukuna not care for whatever that was. As a result, he took advantage of the dust whirled up by the destroyed bit of wall to leave.

 

***  
  


In front of the hole left behind by <jungle>, Shiki quietly stood and stared at the Silver Clan.

 

Kuroh watched Shiki closely. “Shiro, should we really leave him be?”

 

The Silver King already started his way out the shaking tower. Right now, they had no time to spare dealing with a single person, especially someone who acted so adverse to coming to blows with them. Shiki made no moves to stop Shiro, nor did he make an effort to go after Neko and Kuroh. Even if it had been Yukari instead of Sukuna to come, he most likely never had any intention of fighting. “Neko, Kuroh, let's go.”

 

Behind him, the cat and dog hesitated, but Neko quickly became the first to oblige, running ahead of him. Judging by the slow footsteps behind Shiro, Kuroh cautiously obeyed him, but he picked up the moment he deemed Shiki not a threat.

 

For now, Shiro wanted to see what was going on on the rest of the floors. Just for confirmation of how serious things were. This energy he felt definitely wasn't of a normal person. It shook the entire tower, and vibrated into the core of Shiro's being.

 

“Let's go.” Without warning, Shiro pulled Neko over by her waist, and calmly walked off the side of the tower, expecting Kuroh to follow. For the King, the rising went smoothly.

 

Compared to the plan, anything else that happened would go smoother.

 

***

 

“Fushimi, we're starting Phase 3. Is everything ready?”

 

“ _I was ready hours ago.”_

 

Phase 3, a total lockdown of Mihashira Tower, including all communication and power systems. With any communication shut off, all Clans depended on Anna's marbles to keep in touch with each other. Far from an ideal system of communication, this left the Clans even more cautious with their actions and senses.

 

Loud, blaring alarms sounded the lockdown, with dozens, hundreds of metal walls slamming down from the ceiling just seconds after the first one, and lighting in all corridors blacked out. The lockdown got as close to a prison as it could get against the Green King. It definitely wasn't King-proof, but all that mattered was that the obstacles ahead of the Green King slowed him down and wasted what precious, limited time he had left in his current state.

 

***

 

Taking out his PDA, Shiro shown its light onto a gaping hole in the wall. This damage wasn't like the mess Sukuna left with his scythe. It was wilder, jagged and eruptive, and bursting with destructive power.

 

“His power's more impresive than I expected. But he can't keep his stamina up at this rate.”

 

“Isn't that what you wanted?” Kuroh asked.

 

The Green King finally made his move, but sooner than Shiro took account for. Even with how much his Clansmen cleared, Hisui shouldn't have been so eager to move, and instead preserved his power and life for when he felt his success guaranteed.

 

“I feel like I'm missing something,” Shiro sighed. What that something was, he didn't know. He needed to know, but he couldn't just make up an answer. That man, with what limited life he had, should have saved up what he had left for when it counted, not use it when he felt like.

 

Truly, the Silver and Green Kings lived on opposites planes. Shiro, over seventy years, never changed. An injury to him ended up as nothing more than a short, temporary inconvenience. For Hisui, he wanted nothing more than the change of the world, and his very existence depended on that change. Further, the concept of death didn't _exist_ for Shiro, whereas for Hisui, he came dangerously close to it, now with his life hanging on by a thread, and had to tread carefully.

 

Perhaps that was an arrogant track of thought, to assume that his own immortality was exactly why Shiro should, in some way, have an advantage over him. Let alone that, although significantly weaker than him when he was serious, all three Kings of the alliance had the potential to slow him down greatly. But now...

 

Shiro put the PDA away. “Anna's in danger, so let's get going.”

 

He jumped off the rim of the tower, ascending once more. Below, Kuroh and Neko made quick work of catching up with him, the former keeping hold of Neko while managing to walk up the side of the tower with increasing ease. Granted, whenever the tower trembled, Kuroh stumbled and slipped, and had to depend on his spatial hand to regain his balance, but on the bright side, the vassal never lost his composure.

 

Shiro gave a small smile. “You've really improved in a short year.”

 

“Is this really the time for idle chit chat?”

 

“If I spoke about what was going on now, we'd eventually start to psyche ourselves out.” Shiro spoke the truth. As long his mouth did the talking and his brain the thinking, Shiro could stay somewhat relaxed. Self assurance went out the window the minute an unknown variable became apparent, but he couldn't allow himself to waver.

 

Neko, with her arms wrapped around Kuroh's neck, smiled and nodded. “Say, Shiro, Anna's gonna take on that creepy King, right?”

 

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, but I need to get there before things out of hand.”

 

“Shiro.”

 

Kuroh's tone caught Shiro's attention, and he slowed down for Kuroh's sake.

 

“Don't get me wrong, you're a fool, and a cunning man. But, at the same time, something's definitely different about you.”

 

Unable to pick out the emotion behind Kuroh's statement, Shiro shrugged with a laugh. “Can't say you're wrong. But you can't blame me, either.”

 

“That's true, but still...”

 

“Kuroh, now isn't the time to fret about me.” Shiro looked up, watching green lightning twist and turn in and out of the tower. The Green King made quick work of anything meant to slow him down, for sure. Any changes to be concerned about followed _him_ and his intentions for the Slate.

 

***  
  


For HOMRA and Scepter 4, the plan was deceptively simple. To leave the issue of the Green King to Anna's power and Shiro's defence, with Munakata as the last obstacle between the Green King and the Slate. Normal Clansmen would be useless against a King of Nagare Hisui's calibre, so there'd be no point in them even _trying_ to slow him down. Everyone on the current floor knew that, and Anna herself braced herself for the inevitable. She listened to everyone talk, taking in her surroundings as easily as she always did. The uneasy, underlying tones in those trying to keep the others' focused, and, more notably, the rumbling, of the tower and shattering of glass.

 

“Everyone, get back.” Although no one reacted to her order immediately, Anna kept her red, marble-like eyes on the wall shielding the corridor. “He's coming.” She wouldn't wait for him to show up. The core of her soul burnt fierecly, the Red Aura surrounding her and concentrating into those phoenix-like wings she perfected. In front of her, the wall dented once, then twice, and three more times nearlly all at the same time, and, finally, the Green King burst through, smiling in great self-satisfaction with wild eyes focused solely on Anna.

 

Without hesitating, he send a claw of green right at her, and her wings easily deflected it. It did nothing to deter Hisui, and he lunged straight for her. Anna felt shocks course through her entire body, shoving her down into rubble, and the King made quick work of any Clansmen in his path out. Anna propped herself up, holding onto a piece of rubble until she felt the pain subside. Even when Kusanagi ran up to her to see if she was fine, she couldn't worry about herself. The Green King, with his unbelieveable speed, could have already gone hundreds of feet past her, and she _needed_ to stop him.

 

Her wings reappeared, and she soared through the air quickly. The minute she spotted the Green King, she sent fire straight at him, not at all surprised when he evaded her without even looking. By now, the two were at the same pace, eye to eye with another.

 

“Why hello, Red King” Hisui addressed her calmly, happily. “Please forgive my rude entry back there. I was in a rush. My sincere apologies.”

 

Anna wasted no effort in humouring his remark. “The Slate is not your toy, give it up.”

 

“You're right, it's not my toy.” Hisui strided along the ground with his Aura, and jumped above a great distance with Anna right behind him. “A world where players who's awakened to powers beyond that of a human can compete to the top. The Dresden Slate is a system serving that purpose. It doesn't belong to me alone.” It was a toy that belonged to _everyone_. No matter how many times Anna told him to stop, he wouldn't, and couldn't be stopped. He had unwavering confidence that he would reach his goal.

 

Not one Anna's watch. “I said stop!” With a powerful flap of her wings, she blocked Hisui's way, shooting fire out in a huge burst. It stopped him, but with barely any of his Aura to protect him, he allowed the flames to dissipate on their own, standing in place with hardly any damage done to him.

 

“You've only been King for a short time... Yet you seem to have great control over its power. I'm impressed.”

 

Anna doubted he had any means to praise power that he had no understanding of.

 

“Power itself has no meaning. It's the people who wield the power who give it meaning.”

 

Anna narrowed her eyes. “That's not true.”

 

The Green King dismissed her protests. The core in the left side of his chest, lightning spiralling from it violently all around him. It grew and grew in power and intensity, to the point where Hisui began floating once more, and, like some sort of beast made up of lightning, surged forth. Anna cast forth huge amountos of her Aura around him, anything to try and slow or deter him, but he kept pressing forth. He didn't run, he just... glided with short jumps here and there, not taking anything going as something more than a game. She had to change tactics the minute Hisui passed her, moving up the tower above her and paying no attention nor mind to her persistent efforts.

 

The end of this corridor neared closer and closer at rapid speed. Behind its elaborately designed doors, the Slate rested. Yet, instead of crashing straight through them, Hisui briefly landed on them, hurling himself back to push Anna away, and he resumed to his goal.

 

***

 

“Sorry, no goal.”

 

Upon zooming into the Slate's resting place, that was the first thing Nagare heard and felt.

 

Blue Aura erupted from the ceiling, within it, the body of the Green King shortly stayed airborne, before falling down into the tower, inches away from the Slate below him, it's presence all the more prevalent to him. The Blue King towered over him, his sabre appropriately pointed downward in his direction. In a confident, strong tone, the Blue King asked him about how his time in the tower was, commenting him as acting close to an animal.

 

Nagare barely heard nor paid attention to him. From his spot on his back, he saw the Silver Clan descend from the ceiling's new entrance. Their King landed on the floor, with the Black Dog and Miyabi Ameno off and up to the side, her bells ringing upon landing.

 

Ah, right, the Blue King's question. Definitely, the Green King had so much fun. He lived, for lack of a better term. “By the way, humans are animals as well.” That was right, they weren't anything above animals. They were individual, living creatures that just so happened to be distinct from one another. He turned his head slightly, meeting the eyes of the Strain with mismatched eyes. “Isn't that right, Miyabi Ameno?”

 

Miyabi Ameno, startled and confused, pointed herself. “Huh... me?” Definitely, not one bit of her recognised the life others defined for her. She gripped Kuroh Yatogami's jacket, scurrying behind him with great discomfort, possibly even fear. “I'm Neko!”

 

“Miyabi Ameno...” The Blue King's smile never left. “Even with Scepter 4's resources, we could not deduce that girl's identity. So that's her real name.” His focus returned to Nagare. “However, isn't she a bit too unique to use as an example of ordinary humans?”

 

He believed that because he was a fool. Miyabi Ameno and Nagare Hisui were the same. They defined themselves outside the bounds of human qualities imposed upon them. Their free spirits governed the limitless possibilties within humans, and he himself, the one closest to that ideal, came to receive and release the Dresden Slate.

 

Incredulous, the Blue King dropped the light-hearted act. “Are you going to imply that you are the one most suitable for the Slate? Such arrogance.”

 

The irony of the one who even bothered to have the Slate in his name accusing Nagare of so-called 'arrogance' not even understanding what the Green King meant. No one had a chance of being 'suitable' for the Dresden Slate. The Dresden Slate, with his amazing power, was a wellspring of endless possibilties for the future, and anyone thinking they could 'control' did not grasp that at all. The concept of that was based on pure absurdity. No one could control it, but they _could_ release it.

 

Even after spelling it out, the Blue King still misunderstood. “Inviting chaos is the meaning of the Slate, is that it?”

 

“There is no meaning. Those with power shall use it any way they desire.” Nothing more, nothing less.

 

“Yet look at you now... Your power is exhausted.” The blue curling the Blue King's sabre grew. “How do you view the situation you're in? Nagare Hisui... you are a dead man. Once you use up your power, you're little more than a toy with a dead battery. I hardly think you're qualified to go against me for the Slate.”

 

The Silver King certainly kept his allies educated, but it was clear that modesty and etiquette weren't part of the strategy.

 

A 'dead man', but Nagare felt very much _alive_. Perhaps his Aura assisting in maintaining his life classified as unconventional, but it provided the same support one would get from, say, a pacemaker. His power as a King saved and preserved his life. Nothing more, nor less.

 

During the Kagutsu Crater, Nagare Hisui _almost_ died, but right now, at this very moment, he was _alive_.

 

Unfortunately, sentiment like that went unappreciated by the Blue King, most likely, so Nagare felt no obligation to correct the man's endless arrogance. The cracks in his Sword of Damocles must have been cracking more than his reign as a King. He'd be more interested in knowing that something as petty as a 'power struggle' was far from Nagare's concern.

 

***

 

Several floors below, HOMRA and Scepter 4 wasted no time in reaching where Anna and the other three Kings stood. At the front, Yata yelled out to all of them to get their asses in gear. Abrasive as he was, Kusanagi was glad to have the boy put some effort into raising everone's morale.

 

Droplets of water dripped, no, streamed down, creating dozens of puddles on the floor. For sure, nothing above could possibly trigger any leakage of water, especially at this rate. The water fell like a bunch of small, concentrated waterfalls.

 

“I don't like this,” Seri muttered.

 

Kusanagi couldn't agree more. “You and I both.” It'd be best to avoid the water as much as possible, if only to avoid the risk of someone succeeding in tripping over themselves thanks to the puddles. Of course, his order to HOMRA came a second too late for Yata, who skated right over any puddle in his path. The water he rolled up splashed the boot of a Scepter 4 Clansmen, who at first just sighed irritably, but, lo and behold, the situation managed to escalate.

 

“Tell your Clansman to keep his temper to himself.”

 

“Huh? I didn't do anything, you ass!”

 

“Then where'd the burning straight through my boot come from?”

 

Yata finally stopped skating, and the sigh he made proved to Kusanagi he truly was making an effort to not argue his lungs out. “Don't you have something to do than whine?”

 

“If you controlled your temper I would have to--”

 

Seri stepped right between them, forcing them to step away from each other. “Enough.” She stared down her subordinate until he relented, and her clear eyes trailed down to his boot. “That isn't a burn from fire. The way it's burnt is different.” She crouched down to inspect it closer, outlining the hole with her finger. “If it were fire, it'd still be hot, especially with Yatagarasu's Aura. But it's not hot. Just wet.” Suddenly, she jerked her hand back. “It's not hot, but it definitely burns...”

 

“So? What's that mean?” Yata asked.

 

“Simple,” Kusanagi followed, “don't mess around with these puddles or leaks.” He pointed down at Yata's skateboard. “Which means none of that, Yata. Or else you'll unintentionally everyone else.”

 

The No. 2s walked forth with that, ahead of everyone else in the group and walking side by side.

 

“Say, Seri, what's your take on all the water?”

 

“At first I thought it was an error in the sprinkler system, but it's too excessive for that, and fixed in terms of positioning.” She glanced back at Benzai. “And that burn on Benzai's foot wasn't your boy's doing for sure. Something might be in the water that caused that. But there's no way it's hydrochloric acid, otherwise it wouldn't had gone straight through his boot.”

 

Something in the water, implying <jungle> set up some sort of trap. Given how its Clansmen acted, that didn't really sound their style, so Kusanagi had his doubts.

 

Intense wind cut through, and wouldn't stop. The entirety of HOMRA and Scepter 4 failed in keeping steady, forcing some of the latter to dig their sabres into the floor to prevent any falls. For HOMRA, things were more difficult, and the best they could do was crouch down to stabilise themselves. Ultimately, for both groups, the fierce winds still forced them to rigidly slide across the floor.

 

Nowhere outside did the weather act the same as it did inside the tower. Any reason for a storm to pass this suddenly and intensely was impossible. This should not have been happening.

 

Her hair flying everywhere, Seri did her best to shout over the whirring wind. “Men! Form a barrier now!”

 

For once, Scepter 4 acted out of sync, more and more of the blue wall forming only after invididual Clansmen regained their wits. The wind slammed against and around the wall, relentlessly going through and waiting for when Scepter 4 had no choice but to try and move on without the barrier's protection.

 

“Take your men and keep going!” Seri ordered, “we have this covered!”

 

Not a single person in HOMRA agreed with her. Scepter 4 sure as well weren't friends of HOMRA, but, right now, they were allies, and whatever the hell caused this wind had to be stopped. Kusanagi stood up, redoing his tie after the wind wrecked its knot. “This sure isn't what I expected... and Anna's still waiting for us.” No time for whatever this nonsense was.

 

Yata propelled forward, badly rolling over his head and sloppily slammed down on his stomach. The back of his shirt completely burnt down, and his back was reddened. The skater had an incredible amount of pain tolerance, but right now, he cringed with choked grunts. “What the hell?! It stings!”

 

The water glistened a bright, highly saturated shade of violet, bubbling and spreading slowly and surely.

 

“Shit... is it a Strain?”

 

“There's no way...” Agape, Seri rose her sabre. “Focus on the water! Contain to the best of your ability! The winds are secondary, only keep enough of the barrier so that you stay grounded!”

 

Blue caps covered the puddles, the violet water beneath it violently rumbling, even bending the caps despite the Blues' best efforts. Watching, HOMRA made the instinctive choice to assist in maintaining the barrier behind them, allowing the other Clan to focus completely on the water.

 

Thankfully, the winds gradually lessened into something more manageable, but the water still provided Scepter 4 difficulty.

 

“What the hell's going on?!” Yata demanded. None of the Blues answered, instead totally set on containing the water. The one person with any patience to answer him was Seri, and even then, her answer came out strained.

 

“This isn't a Strain, not even under our Beta classification... our situation's... decidedly worse than we prepared ourselves for...”

 

The water below surged and glowed, making Scepter 4 stumble, and the water took advantage of that split second. Like roaring geysers, the violet water broke through the caps, droplets of it splashing around and the speed of it shaking the ground and leaving everyone to fall where they stood into smaller, but growing puddles, burning straight to their skin. By now, the winds completely stopped.

 

The absence of wind left the area shockingly silent, save for the pained grunts of the Clansmen.

 

And the faint approaching sound of heels. Two sets. No, three?

 

Four.

 

Kusanagi definitely heard four sets of footsteps approaching. Two pairs of heels, one pair of boots, and the last just a normal pair of shoes. The heels came into his sight, belonging to that blond-haired woman from earlier, and another older, bob-cut haired woman next to her. The wind and water had to be their doing. Where were the other sets of footsteps coming from, though? He heard them, very clearly, and the boots deliberately walked right next to him and stopped dead in their tracks. He didn't a damn person, but their shadow was obvious.

 

“So what, you're babysitting us?” Even in this poor situation, Kusanagi couldn't help but laugh, even after their invisible guest offered no response. Looking behind him, he finally saw the last pair of footsteps, belonging to an aged, tan guy in priest-like clothing. He walked casually, with a calm smile on his face and untroubled eyes, and not a single hint of taking any of this seriously. He only stopped when he noticed Kusanagi getting up, and the two women ahead also stopped, but unlike the man, didn't look back at him. Kusanagi's stirring must have made something click in HOMRA Clansmen, for they too started to regain their senses. Not surprisingly, Yata made the first move of questioning what the hell was going on. The 'water' certainly did a number on him, but the skater knew how to get up when he needed to.

 

“Hey! Don't just stare at me, old man! Who the hell are you guys?”

 

The man sighed. “Boy, you remind me a lot of our kid... loud and rude.”

 

“Huh?!” It was obvious that some piece of Yata's brain knew better than to immediately dive into trying to engage in a fight with these people, but for the life of him, he didn't notice the fourth person's shadow creeping up near him.

 

However, even if he was distracted by the older patron, that meant the latter was distracted by him, and Kusanagi could work with that. Silently, slowly, he pulled out his lighter. Just one click and he could do something to get these guys out of the way, particularly the bob-haired woman up front. Something about her felt wrong, and the bartender's instincts rarely led him astray. He had to time an attack just right, even if it meant an inconvenience for Yata.

 

Sure enough, the unseen Strain must have yanked down on Yata's head, forcing him down and driving her knee into his stomach, and the impact rippled her into sight as well. Between her sudden appearance and Yata's pissed off yelling, the commotion was enough to let Kusanagi finally act.

 

Spheres of fire went straight for the woman and Strain, and the latter barely noticed the assault until she turned around. She acted quickly, tugging the older man out of the way as well, and with a green flash of lightning, they both retreated ahead of the other two women.

 

The blond tapped long nails along her hip. “Leaving all the work to me, huh?” She snapped her fingers, and her hand fluidly motioned in the air, for a split second, she paused, and soon finished with a wave. In that pause, Kusanagi's fire paused, and the wave sent is flying straight for HOMRA and Scepter 4. If not for the latter's quick work of another barrier, they'd all be fried right now.

 

Standing, Seri remained at the forefront of the barrier. “Fighting against those two is the worst thing we could do right now,” she warned. She watched them through sharp eyes, maintaining a certain calm. “But we have to slow them down somehow...”

 

“That part of your plan's a bit all wet by now, isn't it?” The priest-donned man tilted his head with clear amusement, and nonchalantly tapped the Strain's head with his book. “Be sure to earn your participation points for the day, Akina.”

 

The girl nodded, and that green Aura snaked around her hands like a tiny storm.

 

Lightning and 'water'.

 

Bad combination.

 

***

 

As expected, that did a good number on HOMRA and Scepter 4's Clansmen. Between acidic water and lightning, there was no way they'd be getting out of that unscathed. The four responsible for the mess walked considerably ahead before stopping in a long corridor.

 

Iwa put a hand on Akina's right shoulder, preventing her from walking any further. “Well, with them outta the way, my kid here will be going her separate way from us, Miss Ryujin.” Keeping the girl separated from the main group was mandatory, given the _extra person_ PRiSM intended on bringing along. As much as Akina may dislike it, no one really wanted to have either her nor the young Colourless King tripping each other up. Not only that, but resilient people filled up the ranks of HOMRA and Scepter 4, so someone had to stay behind in case any of them got up to try and pull anything.

 

Akina stayed put, and Iwa felt her intense eyes watch the other three walk away. Best not to look back. Instead, Iwa played catch up.

 

“So how have things been since the last time we actually spoke, Kame?”

 

The King sighed dramatically. “Well, on one hand, I finally got to see a Strain become a King with my own two eyes, although I do have to saw I'm not fond of who became the Blue King in her place, I wish HOMRA hadn't interrupted back then... although the influx of Strains that left after Mizuchi's failure made up for that... Ever since Kokujoji passed away, I've noticed an even more significant influx of Strains needing our assistance,” Kameko replied, “so needless to say, I've been busy. Your kids didn't make it easer for me, either.”

 

Right, right, that antique store incident. In <jungle>'s defence, they more or less helped someone in releasing power that'd slowly built up inside her. It was only a matter of time before it manifested. Speaking, how was that one doing?

 

A round, yellow fan swung in front of him, and Yuko made a face. “Hush. I'm calling someone, sir.” The fact she 'sir' in her vocabularly was amazing. Rewind a few years back and she didn't even have it in her to bow her head respectfully to even Kameko. “Sayuri? It's fine to bring Fuyu and Hirasaka over now. No, go back to your room after.”

 

In a flash, a short-haired girl appeared, Fuyu and Douhan right next to her. She pouted at Yuko with her hands on her hips. “Why can't I come too? I wanna see the Strain everyone's making a big deal outta!”

 

Fuyu took charge, a gentle smile on her face when she crouched to Sayuri's height. “Later, Sayuri. Go home. I'll tell you all about her later.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Uh-huh. Now go back, Ren'll be bored to death without you.” She ruffled Sayuri's hair, and waved goodbye until the girl teleported herself away. She looked at Iwa with squinted brown eyes before turning away. “Honestly, I don't see why _I'm_ here,” she whined.

 

Kameko laughed. “You know exactly why. You're power's an asset.”

 

“Not in a fight. This is all a brute force struggle, not even a power struggle. Right, Miss Hirasaka.”

 

The armour-clad woman gave no response, and only grunted indifferently.

 

“Speaking of your fancy trick, what're we looking at here, Fuyu?” Iwa asked.

 

Fuyu rolled her eyes. “All four Kings are up on the Slate's floor, you already know that. Mister Hisui is flat on his back with the Blue King's sword in his face. The Red King's exhausted, and the Silver King's kinda just... observing or something, I dunno. You probably could have a more fascinating time sitting in an elevator with music playing than trying to make out what progress he's made. Off the top of my head, that's all I can force myself to find out.” She spoke quickly, eager to get the summary over with. Unlike Akina, Fuyu's desire to be anywhere but here was obvious, but she had it in her to speak to Iwa with an informal, rude tone, and having Kameko and Yuko's company must've left her more comfortable. “Shiki's waiting for us just below the Slate's floor. And, _as usual,_ I get here the minute Akina leaves.” She spoke very much like any normal teenager _should_ be like, with an smart aleck, impatient tone to her voice, and her head bobbed side to side with every comment.

 

Kameko listened intently, her small smile never leaving. “I can work with that. But it sounds like your King's a real pinch, Tenkei.”

 

The man nodded. “That was expected, that's why your Clan's here for back-up.”

 

That watery, violet Aura manifested and spun around Kameko's hand. She admired its luster for a moment before sending it upwards. “I'll have to rain on the Triumverate's parade, then.” Urgently, the Aura weaved through the last remaining corridor.

 

***

 

Most of anything Nagare Hisui spewed to Munakata could easily classify as nonsense, or, at the very least, the words of a man blinded by his own simultaneous ignorance and arrogance. Even now, the Green King's expression grew more and more confident, and his stopped looking up at Munakata, instead at the ceiling.

 

“You become too comfortable with victory too soon, Blue King.”

 

Something dripped down on Munakata, and he felt a distinct, stinging senstation. Looking up, a huge, violet cloud rippled over the room. For him, its sting wasn't that painful, but how frequent the dripping occurred was impossible to ignore. More peculiar, the water appeared to only affect certain people. While Anna and Kuroh were forced to use their respective abilities to shield them from its acidic burns, the Silver Clan's Strain went completely unscathed, as did Hisui. For those two, they only found themselves slowly drenched by the water.

 

Violet, acidic water.

 

“I must say, I am disappointed.” Munakata adjusted his glasses, taking his eyes off Nagare Hisui for the meantime.

 

Not even damp from the 'water' above, the Violet King stood with loyal Clansmen right behind her. The one person Munakata never expected to antagonise an already sensitive situation honestly allowed some foolish feeling of greed and ambition to, frankly, cloud her judgement.

 

What a poor first impression.

 

The Violet King nodded her head at him. “This is the first time we've truly met, isn't it?”

 

“I regret it's under such poor circumstances.”

 

“It can't be helped. I can't just have you kill off a business partner, can I? Besides, weak as he is, your sword most likely can't afford to slay another King, Reisi Munakata.”

 

Munakata left her remark to fall off him as easily as her Aura did. Just a thin slip of the Blue Aura was all he needed to keep it from affecting him.

 

“Yashiro Isana, it seems I was wrong to try and postpone our chat about PRiSM. Now we're a bit inadquetely prepared for not taking the Violet King into account.” And to bring an entourage of three Clansmen with her uninvited, how rude. Although, the burgundy-haired girl seemed less interested in the well-being of the Green King, and more fixated on the Silver Clan. For how young she was, Munakata offhandedly hoped she hadn't the intention of going against that powerhouse trio.

 

“Oh I'm not interested in fighting them.” The girl herself spoke directly, as if she'd read Munakata mind. “I'm just trying to make them out, but they're a bit too far for me. So it's hard.” She smiled, apparently looking in his direction, but just above his head. “Also, you're really bad counting, or just rude. I could believe either. Anyways, it's definitely excessive, but there's _six_ of 'us', not five.”

 

 


	12. Kyrie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm late :)
> 
> writing this chapter was really hard since for most of the week the ep. came out i was sick but i finally Bit the Bullet.

_CATHEDRAL,_ the major subdivision of PRiSM's organisation. It served a major role in providing resources to the general public, and acted as the sole link between the Violet King and the affairs of other Kings. At its forefront was its founder, an earnest young man by the name of Seigo Otori. In the past, PRiSM's young King saw in him a natural leader, someone with personable qualities, an open mind, and modest ambitions. Without warning, Kameko Ryujin, seven years Seigo's junior, approached him with emphereal confidence and worldliness. To him, she spoke of a world full of both possiblities and hardships. Its intricate relation to Seigo's world did nothing short of opening his eyes to how narrowly his influence had been.

 

“To one who truly wants to live for the greater good, the exposure to such a larger world is mandatory,” she said, “and it is a world where 'we' must do our part in keeping it in order.” Although she vaguely alluded to the grand existence of Kings, she focused on exposing Seigo more on Strains, few in number as they were, faced with a world full of people who rejected them .

 

She never went as far as to call it something as drastic as 'discrimination', but she didn't avoid how families unaware of Strains as a concept would inevitably react with fear and rejection towards something that could be potentially harmful.

 

“Of course, there are two other men that will go out of their way for such circumstances, however, I see it as rather disconnecting, to be brought to organisations with such formal procedures and impersonal approaches. I'm not saying they're approaching things incorrectly, I certainly see where certain measures must be taken to keep everything in order, but when you're a young person with powers beyond your basic understanding, it's off-putting to be faced with someone in a stiff uniform and flat voice, especially if those around you have rejected you.

 

“You want validation, and the other two groups will give you that, but you don't want just validation that your powers are, in a way, 'natural', but that everything following is validated. You want a guide, not a professional. That's where you come in, Seigo Otori.”

 

The Violet King viewed Seigo as a man capable of providing the very sort of 'validation' she spoke of. He was a man that could easily level with others on a level beyond what she considered 'impersonal'. Truth be told, Seigo couldn't help but find her stance rather naïve, even ignorant. She admitted to having no formal authority in the field she had such an interest in. Moreso, she constantly retconned her opinions on the two 'groups' she spoke of, as if avoiding some accountability for her own thoughts.

 

Yet, at the same time, he saw where she was coming from. If the beings she spoke of encountered as much hardship as she claimed, then indeed, it must have scared them to encounter a mysterious person donned in some uniform and speaking in a formal, rehearsed manner, versus a human levelling with another. Truthfully, Seigo was no philanthropist by any means, but in the face of knowledge that this woman went out of her way to elaborate such things with a stranger exemplified to him someone with a much stronger desire to help others than she gave off. Although her desire to her help was debateable, she nonetheless exposed Seigo to the knowledge that many, many more people potentially depended on his own help than he initially understood. On that day, he couldn't help but to himself if he could, with a clear conscious, decline delving into such a fanastical world.

 

That day, in a plain white room with just a desk and two chairs, Seigo Otori stepped into the world of Kings. He would continue to use that room as his own office, meeting the new faces of Strains and their families and offering them the help they needed. To him, PRiSM's King was an amazing entity, who extended her power and compassion to complete strangers, from temporary lodging to informing them of the Gold and Blue Clans' procedures, wishing them luck in their interactions with the two Clans. Seigo's meetings with clients lasted as short as a few days to as long as just shy of a month, and every parting ended with a fond feeling in his chest, knowing he helped others and belonged to such an organisation that based their life on research and resources for those around them.

 

Within two years of his contributions to PRiSM, he would finally convince the Violet King to expand her services further, no longer limiting themselves to only the supernatural, but finally opening their arms to the public. Seigo already gathered many fellow Clansmen supporting his sentiment, and with that came the birth of _CATHEDRAL_.

 

***

 

The man they looked at now went by the name of _Tenkei Iwafune,_ the surrogate father of Nagare Hisui, the Green King, who in his youth, lost his heart and nearly his life to a piece of heavy, hot rock in the Kagutsu Crater. The man who took Nagare in was the freeloader of  <jungle> and supportive acquitance to Kameko Ryujin, who just so happened to be the Violet King of the deceased Seigo Otori. He left notes around <jungle>'s humble little base to remind its Clansmen of basic manners and good lifestyle choices, drank his booze, and gave comments without being asked to. Last, but not least, he was a chicken that could not fly.

 

So as one could see, Tenkei Iwafune was not a man to make a fuss over. Just a simple man.

 

“You had the lives of many follow your ideals, even under the reign of a true King. You have the audacity to call yourself a 'simple man'?”

 

“My goodness, doesn't listen to a word said to him...” A good several feet from them, Kameko herself ran a hand through her short hair. “Reisi Munakata, you're right, Seigo Otori had been a powerful, trusted Clansman of mine, and his development of _CATHEDRAL_ and its influence within society was impressive, however... he's dead. He up and died in the Kagutsu Crater. _CATHEDRAL_ failed in its goal to stop Genji's Damocles Down, and the captain went down with his ship.” She pointed at Tenkei. “That man is  <jungle>'s. He has nothing to do with me.”

 

Munakata narrowed his eyes. “So both of PRiSM's leaders are the type to forget their failures when it fits them.”

 

“PRiSM failed nothing. It supported and funded _CATHEDRAL's_ tasks as a subdivision of the Clan, but, ultimately, its ideals reflected Seigo's, not mine. I have never failed, not once.”

 

Tenkei nodded. Seigo Otori and _CATHEDRAL_ failed, but, without a doubt, Kameko and PRiSM remained undefeated in anything they put their minds to. Really, they were an impressive Clan, from their King to their Clansmen. Say, for example, their aerokinetic.

 

At rapid, sharp speeds, wind stirred within the Slate's chamber, picking up debris, dust, and water all at once. The only ones unaffected, naturally, consisted of PRiSM and <jungle>'s people. No one could help having the wind obstruct their view a bit, but the two Clans didn't have to worry about being by any materials whirling about in it. Thanks to that, Tenkei had no problem picking Nagare up, a clear path of violent separated them the Blue King.

 

Of course, the other guys wouldn't just stand around and let themselves be blown away by a bit of a wind. That young Red King immediately shimmered a brilliant red. She harboured a powerful resolve to stop them, and put her all into a quick rush of fire.

 

What an inexperienced kid.

  
***

Anna's action went unappreciated. The wind ceased, and violet waves in front of Iwafune crashed into Anna's fire, engulfing them and sending tall columns of steam into the air with loud, deafening sizzles. Without missing a beat, Iwafune armed himself, holding a simple gun.

  
That man concentrated huge amounts of the Violet Aura into his hand and channeled it into the gun, releasing powerful, stinging 'bullets' from its chamber as a result. Just feeling their deflected impact against his umbrella, Shiro knew these things surpassed mere 'bullets'. If these touched a living being's body, the 'bullet' would destroy surrounding tissue in an instant.

 

From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw Munakata move in on Iwafune, his sword swirling with that blue Aura. The moment he struck down, Iwafune went against all odds. A faint violet covered both him and his gun, and he blocked Munakata's attack without difficulty. Their respective power forced each other back, and Munakata promptly sent a blue disc of Aura through the air. However, more of PRiSM's Aura condensed itself and deflected the attack. Given the shear mass of the Aura, it undoubtedly belonged the Violet King herself.

 

“Come now, I can't just sit back and let you hurt our allies,” she said. Below her feet, water spread throughout the entire chamber, reflecting everyone's faces above it. With anyone's movement, it rippled, seemingly benign, but it left a constant danger.

 

The Violet Aura worked well against organic material, but their King's went the extra mile, requiring a tiny bit of time before it succeeded in dissolving through anything in its wake. Now, puddles of it spread across the floor, inching closer and closer towards the alliance. The Violet King stood in place, composed and unruffled by the clash just a few feet in front of her. She observed them silently, a small smile on her face, and the younger girl next to her hadn't said a word since earlier. What ran through either of their minds was a mystery.

 

“Yashiro!” Anna called to him from behind. “The water's rising!”

 

Mist clearly rose from the puddles, and at an impossible rate. Munakata, occupied with Iwafune, forcefully pushed the man back with a powerful blue shield, giving him time to observe the mists's nature.

 

Across from him, Iwafune laughed gruffly and tapped the gun on the his shoulder. “My, oh my... wasn't as subtle as I hoped.” By now, the mist already reached his knees. With that, Iwafune revealed himself as not only an influential man, but skilled, as well. His control and manipulation of a watery Aura displayed surprising innovation. “Breathing this in wouldn't be reccomended for normal folks.” By the middle of his sentence, mist rose up to his chin, covered his face and cloudy, dim eyes.

 

The mist completely obstructed Shiro's view, and, by habit, he sucked in a breath, feeling the mist crawl in and down his throat, leaving a powerful, stinging sensation corroding it. Just him, a King capable of blocking out external threat, being caught off guard by the mist was enough to shoot pain throughout his throat.

 

He overheard Neko and Kuroh calling out to him.

 

“Both of you, leave!”

 

“But Shiro!”

 

“Shiro!”

 

“I'm not saying it as a request!” This mist hurt him when he was caught off guard for only a second. Shiro couldn't imagine its effects on regular Clansmen. No buts about it, Neko and Kuroh had to leave.

 

“Shiki, you should probably do the same.” Just barely audible, the youngest of the Kings addressed her Clansman in a light tone. When her Clansman didn't move, she waved her hand dismissively.

 

This time, she spoke quietly, deliberately, eventually peering over the taller one's shoulder and smiling at Shiro's. Her Clansman jumped to an incredible height, clearing the tower's hole with the ease and grace of an acrobat. The young King held her hand up next to her mouth. “Mister Isana, my Clansman won't mess yours. I already know how things are gonna play out so he doesn't need to do anything.” Despite her claiming to have no experience as a King, she stood confidently, hands behind her back and no sense of urgency to her. Worse, there wasn't an ounce of malice nor ill intent in her eyes, just an unwavering, honest look.

 

A bright bullet sped past her, and she backed up with a shriek. “Mister Iwafune! Please watch where you're shooting those things!”

 

Against any combatant's common sense, that man took the luxury of relaxing his stance. “My bad, bad Fuyu.” He laughed with a gravelly voice. Carelessly, he waved the gun around, even while putting his all into evading Munakata's attacks within the mist. “This kid's giving me a run for my money!” Surely enough, his gun managed to defend itself against Munakata's shelter. The Blue King, with a determined look, faced off a man with a half-hearted, dim look in his eyes.

 

Behind Shiro, he overheard a stutter of footsteps, and turned to meet a distressed looking Anna. He courched to her side, keeping her from falling down. “Anna, what's wrong? You're shaking.”

 

Appearing smaller than usual, the girl stiffened her lip. “This mist... it doesn't hurt only physically, it's mixed with an awful feeling.”

 

“What sort of feeling?”

 

Anna lifted her head, staring at Iwafune. “Sorrow.”

 

Seigo Otori, from the lieutenant's explanation, he'd been an influential member of PRiSM since the first day he became a Clansman. A pacifist who displayed remarkable skill with the Violet Aura when forced to fight. He stood beside PRiSM's King with unquestioned authority and power, leading _CATHEDRAL_ into a subtle power that subsequently increased PRiSM's power. _CATHEDRAL's_ downfall in the Kagutsu Crater, had Otori not been declared dead, would have destroyed his and _CATHEDRAL's_ credibility.

 

The loss of an entire group created by and entrusted to Otori tore him apart inside, and left little more than the shell of a cynical, self-deprecative man depending on the will of another to maintain some direction in his life. Behind every bit of criticism he threw Munakata's way was a self-reflective reprimand at himself.

 

Unfortunately, in that sense, Shiro really couldn't say anything.

 

Shaking his head, Shiro covered Anna's mouth for a split second, allowing a dome to form around the two of them. Surrounding them, the dome expelled any mist in their small space. His hand moved to pat her head. “For now, I need to focus on keeping you from passing out.”

 

“I can still help!”

 

“I don't doubt that,” Shiro admitted, “but your fire might just make steam of the rest of the water in here, and then it's spreading around toxins like no other.” Shiro found himself raising his voice, until finally he realised he shouldn't be. He shouldn't need to raise his voice. But the mechanic whirring of a helicopter making itself known. Just barely through the mist, Shiro could see black cables swinging down from it.

 

“The roof!”

 

He moved to get up, but Anna's small hand clutched his jacket, giving him an intense expression. “Someone's coming.”

 

Appearing in the mist, the wavy-haired girl crouched in front of the Silver King's dome, both hands cupping her chin. A curious look replaced her easy-going smile. “So then, you're really the Silver King?” The only thing implying any troubled thoughts was her constant fussing with her hair to combat the helicopter's wind.

 

Shiro moved Anna closer to him. “You're the new Colourless King.”

 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” The girl sighed, and her expression softened. “Although, that being said, I'm not very useful in things like fighting.” She pointed to Munakata and Iwafune's duel. “This mist is Mister Iwafune's, so it wouldn't affect him in general, but the Blue King, he's powerful, he has his own sanctum to protect him. I'm not confident enough to manage something like that.”

 

Upon further inspection, it was clear that the mist no longer surrounded her, and instead swirled about her, like she was the eye of a storm. If what she said was true, then whatever kept her safe wasn't her doing. An exterior force kept her safe, and it wasn't her own power. Yet, she still remained perfectly at ease, even with a violent battle going on when one of the opponents, her enemy for that matter, couldn't see two feet in front of his sabre.

 

Even with two apparent barriers separating them, Shiro, without a doubt, sensed something esoteric in her. She wasn't unreadable, but her existence was distant, transient, like a ghost, but at the same time still tranquil. She had no chaotic, frenzied energy to her, yet she had no problem coexisting with the cacophony caused by Iwafune and Munakata. 'Eye of a storm', that summed her up flawlessly.

 

Why was someone like her supporting _this?_

 

“You know, I know _a lot_ of things, but that's one thing I can't answer.” The girl pushed strands of her hair behind her ear. “But I do know that there's someone who's putting her all into this for me, so I can only do the same for her.” She put the hood of her dress up. “Anyways, I didn't come here to talk about my love life. I have something to tell both you and Miss Kushina.”

 

Without warning, Anna made her to the front of Shiro, an intense, brewing fire in her eyes. “What is it?”

 

Fuyu shot her a victory sign. “When the Slate's power is completely released, lots of things will happen. It'll take all Scepter 4 and Timeless Palace they have to keep things in order, and that's just here.” Still keeping the sign in tact, she pointed behind her, and the mist dispelled to show Ryujin, still calmly observing the fight. “Doctor wants you to know that because of all that'll happen, it's discouraged to focus on PRiSM at all. After this blows over, <jungle>'s well-being will be second place compared to what we'll be preoccupied with. We'll be more than necessary, so for you, and especially Scepter 4, our presence is important.”

 

So PRiSM's King was fully aware of what could happen if the Slate's power was released. But, how much of that did she know?

 

“I can't tell you that,” Fuyu said. Before she continued, she looked away from him, a wall of her Aura erupting in front of her, and several bullets bounced off it. “Not here, at least. Probably not until later when things smooth down, but it's your responsibility to approach us with that question.” She stood up, still keeping the wall in tact. “Also, I really suggest staying where you two are. If either of you move, my Clansman is still up on the roof – what's left of it – with your Clansman. I explicitly told him not to do anything, but if you so much as move, it's your Clansmen on the line. Even if you think to yourself: 'My Clansmen would be able to handle themselves', I think it'd be awful to be the sort of King that puts their Clansmen in that position knowingly, and Shiki's way stronger than he looks.”

 

Both Shiro and Anna shot her narrow looks, but she laughed it off. “Shiki doesn't want to if he doesn't have to, don't worry. Especially regarding you, Miss Kushina.”

 

The young King's eyes fluttered at the sincerity in the other's tone. Cautiously, she asked what she meant.

 

“Well, to use Mister Hisui's wording... you're similar? That's what Shiki thinks.”

 

“We're 'similar'?”

 

“Yeah, that's what Shiki thinks.” Suddenly, Fuyu's smile dropped, and the wall beside her disappeared. “Mister Iwafune has this in the bag.”

 

As much as Shiro hated to admit, he knew that, as dismissive this girl was, as lightly as she took this, she was still a King. A claircognizant with powerful intuition. So hearing her commentary more than unsettled him.

 

“It looks like they had a pretty intense conversation – mostly a bunch of self-righteous talk, though. They've experienced way different disasters, but one's experienced failure and the other's just experienced saving the entire country. Mister Munakata has nothing on someone as cowardly as Mister Iwafune. That's precisely why he won't win.”

 

***

 

“I can't hear Shiro over that stupid helicopter!”

 

The two Silver Clansmen and the single Colourless Clansman kept on opposite sides of the roof's opening.

 

Although Neko mellowed out compared to when Kuroh first pulled them up here, she still moved around anxiously, so much so Kuroh felt a need to keep a firm grip on her. With the helicopter's appearance, however, her fidgeting increased, forcing Kuroh to keep a firmer hold on her. The helicopter's appearance, and the cables dropping from it, sent their anxiety through the roof

 

Meanwhile, the Colourless Clansman stayed crouching where he was near the hole's edge. The helicopter didn't affect him at all, and his dark eyes stayed fixated on the hazy cloud beneath.

 

Compared to the helicopter, he was a last priority. Something, anything Kuroh could do to help Shiro and stop <jungle>. “Neko, hold on tight. I'm taking that thing down.” His hand glew, directed right for the helicopter. He just needed one good hit on it and it would be history.

 

“Kurosuke!” Jumping up and down, Neko squirmed her to nearly hurling herself over Kuroh's shoulder. “Move, move outta the way!” She tugged at his hair, like she was frantically tugging at a horse's reins. “That creepy kid's gonna get us!” With all her movement, she finally managed to make Kuroh lose his bearings and slip, and both of them tumbled to the ground.

 

“Neko! What do you think you're doing?!”

 

“He was gonna us!” Neko already recovered, now on her knees and making Kuroh look up instead of at her.

 

Kuroh's irritation washed over, taken over by a new set of emotions. Red, wild structures writhed above them, loosely in the shape of sickles, or, more closely, fangs. Having missed their targets, the structures quickly retracted from the air, noticeably moving behind the Silver Clansmen without a second attempt at striking them.

 

“If you do anything to the helicopter, I'll stop you.”

 

Laying absolutely still, the voice did nothing to encourage Kuroh to get up. He only allowed himself to get up after he was absolutely sure those fang-like structures vanished, and turned to the one speaking. The Colourless Clansmen still crouched near the edge of the hole, but now his sharp, dark eyes met Kuroh's with feral intensity.

 

“...Neko,” Kuroh spoke in a low voice, “did you see where he hid those weapons?”

 

“Yeah, they went up his sleeve like _whoosh!_ ” Over the helicopter, it was for once a chore to try and hear Neko's voice. “But I dunno how he did it, it was like a vaccum or something.”

 

“A vaccum?” Although only for a brief few seconds, Kuroh those things. They had razor sharp edges, and never stood still. No way that Clansman could be keeping them under his sleeves without hurting himself. That aside, they'd be trouble, being as flexible and long-reaching as they were. Had that been why the boy kept such a distance from them? Was it easier to control his weapons that way? He made a point of staying at a distance, while the helicopter itself was right in front of Kuroh, right above the Slate.

 

This kid wasn't screwing around, and he watched every move Kuroh and Neko made, the deafening spinning of the helicopter's blades would make it all the more difficult to hear him if he attempted another attack.

 

“We aren't Kings,” he said, “so we stay out of this.”

 

Ignoring his warning, Kuroh finally stood up. “Why are you here?” He could see it, in those dark grey eyes he saw someone who didn't want to fight. There wasn't an ounce of danger in his eyes. He watched them intently, for sure, but he hadn't an ounce of threatening presence. “You have no interest in any of this, don't you? Why half-heartedly--”

 

“None of this is half-hearted!” Immediately stiffening at his own outburst, the boy looked away from them, back into the chamber. “...can't afford to fail. We can't afford to let <jungle> fail.”

 

At the nearly inaudible answer, Kuroh's urge to retaliate lessened. “'We'? As in your King?”

 

The boy nodded.

 

Having sensed the uncertain feeling rising him, Neko tilted her head. “Kurosuke, what're you thinking?”

 

“...” The younger boy's words were full of _something_. He spoke as if his King was the centre of his world. “...it's like looking in a mirror.” Keeping his comment to himself, Kuroh looked back at the helicopter. “Shiro... we're entrusting this entirely to you.”

 

***

 

Hundreds of thousands of people died on that one, sweltering July day... all because of how helpless they were against powers unknown to them. If each person had their own power, then they'd at least confront death with something to fight back with. That choice could finally be theirs, instead of them being left in the hands of fate.

 

With that conviction behind every bullet shot, Tenkei spoke confidently. “That's the kind of world Nagare strives for.”

 

This old man left the Blue King panting for breath with a desperate grip on his sabre. His opinion sure did conflict with Tenkei's. To him, a world where people all had a power to call their own would just be a depraved one, leaving people to fight and kill each other just flaunt the stuff they got. The King who stood and fought for order believed in a society of reason and people to oversee it.

 

An 'ideal, beautiful world'.

 

“Heh, what lofty ideals.” Wanting to create some ideal world with just his power... Munakata only had such an ambition because he wouldn't know what to do with failure if it stabbed him in the chest.

 

Or, better yet, hit him right in the stomach with the end of a simple, everyday gun. It send the Blue King staggering back with a hand to his stomach, and haughty eyes, for once in their life, gleamed with an intensity that must have rivaled the day he slew a fellow King. For someone who stood for order, Munakata had a surprisingly spiteful streak to him.

 

“Listen, kid, you've gotta stop being so aggressive. Here's some advice from an old man.” Casually, Tenkei refilled the gun's chamber. “The higher your ideals, the bigger your disappointments. Moderation is everything, relax a little.”

 

The Blue King didn't care for the dire advice, and in a single stroke, dismissed the entire mass of mist that filled the room. Clearly, he was worn out, well beyond the hope of achieving any ideals of his. Hell, even his uniform took on wear and tear thanks to Kameko's Aura still generously spread on the floor. The water tracked everywhere he went, always piled up just a bit higher than the rest of the area near him. Without saying a word or lifting a finger, the Violet King kept an iron grip on the Blue King.

 

“Hey, Kame, you're leaving a normal person to do all the work when his King's out of commission and your other one's conversing with the enemy?”

 

The woman shrugged. “If I thought my help would be necessary, I'd extent it.”

 

Her words fell limply in the air, and the mass of water surrounding Munakata erupted, twisting at drilling speeds for him.

 

In those few short seconds, Kameko Ryujin became the undefeated King. From where she stood, she singlehandedly delivered the experience of failure to Reisi Munakata. Her unruffled smile looked nothing like the disbelief that muddied Munakata's, who watched his sabre get sliced in half, its lower part neatly piercing the floor. Adding insult to injury, the Blue Sword of Damocles, gleaming above, cracked and broke in several other places, whereas the Violet King's never manifested in the first place.

 

Again, she raked a hand through her hair. “That's that, Hisui, Iwafune.” Just like that, she turned her back on everyone in the room, her tall Clansman right behind her. Before leaving, she lowered the sunglasses over her eyes. “Fuyu, I'll be taking my leave. Don't linger too long.”

 

“Yes Doctor!” While giving her affirmation, the girl also waved her goodbyes to the two <jungle> men boarding the slowly lifted Dresden Slate. She trotted away from the Silver and Red Kings and looked up the roof's opening. “Shiki! We're done here! Let's head back!” Closely following her exclamation, the tired-looking boy jumped from the roof, completely passing the Slate on the way down, and landed without a hitch in front of Fuyu, who reached up to pat his head with a cheerful smile. “Nice job keeping them at bay. Let's go now. Mister Isana, Miss Kushina, it was nice speaking to you!"

 

***

The chamber holding the Slate was empty, with the glass covering it utterly destroyed. Completely empty, without the stone's heavy presence filling it.

 

“Shiro, are you okay?”

 

“Shiro. What should we do now?”

 

The Silver King slowly turned to them. Without thinking, he laughed. “That's a good question... Honestly, I'm at a loss myself.” He knew PRiSM would involves themselves in this, he _knew_ that. He took in everything the Lieutenant told him, word for word to every painstaking detail... “I messed up...”

 

“Shiro, don't blame yourself.” Kuroh spoke in a stern tone. “We have to get the Slate back.”

 

Get it back... the Lieutenant dedicated and put his life on the line to keeping the Slate controlled, and following his death, Munakata put his all into the same task. But _now_ , it was only a matter of time before the Slate released its power onto the whole world...

 


	13. Kneel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Seri's POV is really nice and I like writing her break someone's arm.

The white French doors to PRiSM's second floor, compromising of mostly small libraries and discussion rooms. In the doorway, a young man in casual clothing stood up straight, a stony look on his face. Through his glasses, he looked expectantly at the King who sat at a table in the dead centre of the room.

 

At a separate table, Douhan watched the familiar face walk through. He'd be the one who arrested her, Saruhiko Fushimi, Scepter 4's former third-in-command. Seeing him now, no feelings of resentment stirred, only acute indifference. Back then, the two merely acted upon orders, neither of them acted upon anything past their assigned jobs. Douhan had no reason to bear some petty grudge against him.

 

“What?” Ryujin smirked at him. From what Douhan paid attention to, the Violet King got into the habit of nicknaming Fushimi 'the newly released Tri Force'. “If you're here to collect more Auras, I'm more than happy to oblige.”

 

Fushimi stood in place. “I have no interest in becoming some test subject for you.”

 

His blunt retort briefly caught Ryujin off-guard, but Ryujin composed herself with a short laugh. “Remote surveillance it'll be, then, don't take it personally.”

 

“I don't really care. Watching me is why I got in here so easily, isn't it? Your people didn't consider for a second I was an enemy.”

 

“Even if you turned out to be a spy, there's plenty of Clansmen here capable of killing you in an instant... In any case...” Ryujin stood up, but didn't walk towards the 'visitor'. “What brings you here?”

 

Without a word, Fushimi pulled something out of his jacket pocket, a PDA, from what Douhan could make out. He tossed it to her, and as soon as it landed in her hand, the screen shined bright green. She could feel that temporary power she utilised as a U-rank still stirring inside her, even if it truly wasn't there.

 

Incredulous, Douhan narrowed her eyes at Fushimi. “What's this for?”

 

An awful smile appeared. “Exactly what it looks like.”

 

“I'm not interested in working together with you.” Douhan shot him down, just like that. Nothing obligated her to return to <jungle> or participate in its missions. She wasn't interested in 'regaining her place' in the Clan or anything as asinine as that. Money was all she cared about, and PRiSM had _loads_ of it.

 

Ryujin whistled. “Very bold. Miss Hirasaka, why not take it up?”

 

“What?”

 

“No doubt, <jungle> still has the means to provide some nice income, and I myself am willing to raise what you're currently offered here. Only if you accept what that PDA represents.”

 

“...” Douhan knew that neither of these two pushed her into a corner. No, rather, she'd been given two choices. Fushimi didn't seem the type who'd press on something he thought as troublesome as a person that needed more than five minutes of pushing, and Ryujin stood for a principle of 'free will', or so she claimed.

 

Nonetheless, the smiling Violet King gestured to Fushimi. “I won't tell you which not to do. You know the consequences both choices hold. Choose the one you think has benefits outnumbering those inconveniences.”

 

So then? To keep the secure position she already obtained, or to push it, knowing she'd get more out of it even if some trouble came along the way...

 

Douhan's grip on the PDA tightened. The principle of free will, or in this case, determinism, made her choice all the easier.

 

***

 

Kuroh just wanted to go grocery shopping in peace, but he knew that wouldn't be how things went

 

.On nearly every street, he overheard the ramblings of a participant in the JUNGLE site speak of him. He was worth 10,000 points, but people knew better than to try and attack him. Most stuck to watching him like a hawk, mumbling to themselves and snapping pictures, to them, even intel counted for _something_. It annoyed him, greatly, but he could, more or less, avoid the larger annoyances by jumping to a different part of the street, only to overhear more people bustle about him. Two, three times he already changed his location.

 

Then to the left of him, there's a huge explosion and a building engulfed in flames, with a man panicking, claiming it wasn't him. However, his hand glew bright red, and as soon as he touched a nearby fire hydrant, its top burst open and water spewed everywhere.

 

An announcement on a building's side boomed throughout the city. _“Next, we turn the latest coverage regarding incidents where people are developing unnatural powers.”_

 

By the time Kuroh reached the commotion, it'd already underwent repair. Two well-dressed women spoke to the man with a glowing hand. They smiled pleasantly, professionally, never breaking eye contact with him. At the same time, another of their coworkers appeared at the scene, telling even _more_ to take care of the fire.

 

“ _Since the start of the year, reports of such incidents have continued to be on the rise throughout the Kanto region. In response to this outbreak, the authorities have established connections to a special countermeasure team.”_

 

Precisely, like a well-oiled machine, the well-dressed bunch subdued any trouble, and the man's hand stopped glowing. One of the women, a tall one with a beauty mark, pulled a white card from her vest pocket. Even from where Kuroh stood, its iconic sheen shimmered. The wrapping-up of this mess ended in PRiSM Clansmen sweeping a newborn Strain off his feet, eagerly comforting him and assuring him that they knew the best way to help him.

 

“ _And in conjunction, the ministry is scheduled to submit an emergency bill for enactment that will be implemented on a national scale.”_

 

A tap on the shoulder caught Kuroh, who watched the sideshow ahead of him with a hawk's eye, off guard. He stiffened, and turned to greet the face of a young man in the same uniform as the woman.

 

“Sir, did you get hurt?” His smile succeeded in being even more artificial than the others, and no more pleasant than a fox's. The face of a well-informed person stared Kuroh dead in the eye. “If you need any he--”

 

“I'm fine.” Kuroh brushed past him, not apologising for bumping in him. The guy had some nerve acting as if he didn't know who he was talking to. JUNGLE Clansmen, PRiSM, regular civilians, all of their eyes glued onto him, this guy wasn't an exception.

 

Once satisified with the distance between himself and the crowd behind him, Kuroh allowed him to finally breathe.

 

***

 

Reclining on the couch, Iwa smiled. “The field test for the Slate is going well. And that old fart's media blackout is no longer functioning.”

 

With snowy hair, Nagare nodded. “The number of people empowered by the Dresden Slate increases day by day.

 

“And with it comes a new age,” Yukari added. No one questioned his choice to perform yoga in such a small space. “Where everyone can express their own individuality. The age of <jungle> where chaos breathes life.” Slowly, with exaggeratedly graceful precision, he changed his position. “A paradise for survival of the fittest.”

 

“'Paradise'?” Iwa echoed, “isn't that usually what people call 'Hell'?”

 

Across from him on the floor, Sukuna tapped away at his game with a wry smile. “What's wrong, old man? Getting cold feet?”

 

The man shook his head. “A Hell one can see is slightly better than one you can't see at all. That's the choice I made.” As usual, he spoke carelessly and weightlessly.

 

The green map in front of Nagare displayed multiple locations of activity. In order to make the coming new age arrive sooner and more definitively, Nagare issued several special missions for JUNGLE's players to carry out. The purpose involved finding and recruiting newly born Strains, keeping watch over other Clans' activities, and laying the groundwork between other parties for their next phase. On the surface, PRiSM put forth efforts to truly explain the life of a Strain to newborns, but almost always ended up pointing them in <jungle>'s direction.

 

“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Sukuna dismissed.

 

Yukari already changed to a third yoga position. “A delicious meal requires lots of preparation before being served, Sukuna.”

 

“You just said 'survival of the fittest' Winner take all? Eat or be eaten?”

 

Without an answer to his question, the map displayed a blonde-haired woman with brilliant green eyes. Douhan Hirasaka. Her failure last year at Mihashira Tower severely hurt her position as a U-rank member, but since PRiSM took action over her, the business-driven person regained her U-rank, and Nagare happily welcomed her back. Truly, she hadn't left PRiSM's Clan, likely reaping the benefits of two places to gain payment from, but it nonetheless pleased Nagare to see such a skilled Clansman regain the forefront.

 

Another image popped up, revealing a rather recent addiction at 90,000 points, already U-rank within a month. Saruhiko Fushimi... rather than impressive, he amused Nagare, because he sure used some sort of exploit to get to high so quickly.

 

“So he's cheating,” Sukuna said.

 

Next to him, on her own gaming console, Akina nodded. “He's full of shit.”

 

Nagare couldn't blame their irritation. Both the young J-ranks put huge amounts of effort into getting and staying where they were. All Fushimi needed was one more big mission, and he'd be joining their rank without much effort. It was a very real possibility, one Nagare looked forward to.

 

“This place is gonna liven up,” Iwa assumed.

 

Still not sold, Sukuna scoffed. “Those guys are nothing.” He shot up.

 

“Where you going?” Iwa asked.

 

The boy already opened the window and prepped himself to leave. “I'm going on missions.”

 

“Getting a little nervous that the new kid might catch up?” Yukari spoke in a teasing manner, not once ceasing his yoga.

 

Sukuna stiffened. “That's not it!” With that, he hastily jumped out.

 

Iwa sighed. “Yukari, don't tease the kid just for fun. It's not nice.”

 

“Being mean is part of love too.”

 

“Every person who's been mistreated by another just had the sudden urge to kill you.” Akina made the retort without a lick of emotion. “Lacking social skills isn't very 'beautiful'. It just makes you intolerable.”

 

More than half a year, and she hadn't warmed to anyone within <jungle>. It disappointed Nagare. Akina held plenty of potential, and she definitely earned her place as a J-rank, but she had no sense of respect for her fellow members, and seemed to just barely tolerate Sukuna. Perhaps it was because of the age gap between the two younger Clansmen that they clashed with the others, but Akina herself almost made a point of antagonising them. Yukari especially, although she mostly stayed away from Iwa, who, in his own words, said she 'looked at him like a tasmanian devil looked at the world'.

 

“Akina, you'll live a bad life if you act like you understand everything,” Yukari warned. He switched to a different position once again. “By the way, doesn't your hair bother you?”

 

The snake-eyed girl paused her game and picked up a strand of her hair. Certainly, her long hair managed to get longer, her bangs especially. Inspecting the strand between her dark fingers, Akina shrugged. “Going somewhere to get it cut is too much a hassle.”

 

“You know, I could trim it for you. Free of charge.”

 

“My hair could be a sentient, man-eating alien creature from a different dimension 100 astronomical units away from ours, and I still wouldn't let you near my head with scissors in your hands.”

 

Cold as she was, she had a very detailed, vivid imagination. It went unappreciated by Iwa, who sighed and drunk from his alcohol. “You two are so rude... it's tiring.” He scratched his head, giving Akina a sideways glance. “Although I know you won't listen to a damn word I say... I dunno why you don't try to make friends with others.”

 

“Personally, she makes a good companion for Sukuna,” Yukari commented, “he rarely gripes about her and vice versa.”

 

Good, good. Nagare could deal with that.

 

***

 

“I'm home.”

 

“Welcome home!” Kukuri poked her head around the corner, smiling bright as ever, but her smile soon turned to shock. “What happened? Is it raining outside. Let me get you a towel!”

 

Soaking wet, Kuroh's slate of cool didn't change. “No... I ran into another of those unnatural power incidents.” He gratefully took the towel Kukuri returned with.

 

“I heard it's happening all over the place.” Her PDA buzzed, and she pulled it out of her skirt pocket. “Ah, I better get to my student council meeting. Kuroh, I brought cookies over too, so help yourself.”

 

“I'm already eating them! Delicious!”

 

Kukuri smiled. “Be seeing you guys, okay? You too, Shiro! Good luck on your studies.”

 

“Mmhmm, thanks.”

 

“Public safety seems to be getting worse each day.” Kuroh pulled his hair out of its ponytail, patting it dry to the best of his ability. “All because of the Slate falling into the Green Clan's hands...” Thanks to that, the Slate bestowed powers to just about anyone.

 

Inside the main room, Shiro's coffee table was covered in old, thick textbooks. The books covered several different subjects, from science to anatomy. A few papers scattered across as well, along with a generous amount of pens and pencils. Apparently, Kukuri left him a small pile of cookies set down on a plate with a napkin. In the centre of Shiro's workspace, he kept a picture of himself, Klaudia, and the Lieutenant.

 

“Sorry.” Without looking, Shiro nodded. “I'll hurry up with a solution.”

 

“No, I'm not blaming you,” Kuroh quickly said. Next to Shiro, Neko picked up one of the cookies, and Shiro gladly ate it when Neko tossed it to him. Immediately after, Shiro returned to writing. “You seem very focused.”

 

Shiro laughed airly. “Well, I _am_ the one who screwed up on Christmas. I can't quit now. The Dresden Slate, and the Green King... they must be stopped.” His tone lowered from its cheerful default. “My sister often scolded me when I was little. She used to say: 'Clean up your own mess.'”

 

“You've been working hard this past month...” Kuroh looked down to the floor. “I'm ashamed of myself for being so useless.”

 

Not taking notice of his self-criticism. “He's right Shiro! You're doing a great job!”

 

“But Kuro, you prepare our meals every day.”

 

“Don't try to be funny. I'm serious.”

 

Finally, Shiro turned away from his research. “So am I. If you don't prepare our meals, I'll die.” He crossed his arms with a serious expression. “If I don't do something about the Slate, mankind is screwed. So I must come up with a counter-plan for the Slate. That's why you have to prepare our meals, Kuro.”

 

“What Shiro said!”

 

“I'm thinking of using the Resonance Hammer Effect on the Slate.”

 

Unfold the Slate's power under certain conditions, causing an irreversible change to the Dresden Slate's own Weismann phase. In layman's terms, the effect derived from the general concept of resonance and its vibration levels on a piece of equipment. It those vibrations amplified significantly enough, the machine it affected would fail. This version of it, applying to the Slate, was devised by none other than his elder sister, Professor Klaudia Weismann: titled the Secondary Methodology of Schwert Regulation. Scribbling rapidly, he revealed the sketch to Neko and Kuroh. It... more less illustrated it.

 

In a way.

 

“...anyways, I'm hard at work. I need strong moral support to keep me going. Neko has that covered. I also need fuel to keep me going. So I need meals.” So Kuroh absolutely was not 'useless'.

 

The Black Dog stood silently, but, finally, his shoulders loosened. “We'll be having curry for dinner.”

 

Shiro's cheers closely followed Neko's, and the two's volume quickly rose into something chant-like. Little things like this, while at the same constructing a massive plan, needed to be cherished in the moment.

 

***

“So Fushimi's still missing?”

 

In front of a large, upscale building, crowded by well-dressed socialites and the government's top tier, the Blue and Red Clans' No. second-in-commands stood. The both of them dressed for the occasion, allowing them to blend in with this crowd easily. However, while the socialites attended the gathering with light hearts, Seri's fell heavy.

 

After the fiasco a month ago, Fushimi and Munakata indeed had an unsavoury exchange. According to the Clansmen present during the argument, the two of them kept tossing accusations at each other, something _especially_ uncharacteristic of Munakata, and Fushimi took it to heart. He left Pleiades embedded a Scepter 4 truck, and, like the sabre was a coat hanger, tossed his jacket over it, leaving without a word after.

 

Seri knew the Captain became more and more unreadable since he took previous custody of the Dresden Slate, but now he was like a book in an ancient, foreign language, completely outside her understanding. For the past month, things quickly spiraled downward, and the mood of this party juxtaposed Seri's worry to staggering degrees.

 

At the front of the building, an eye scanner identified party goers, with both No. 2's under the surname 'Kusakabe'. Undergoing false identities (and relationships), the two also put on simple masquerade masks, enough to cover their upper face.

 

The event was <jungle>'s doing, and because of that, any waiters holding a plate of champagne glasses or a lush towel adorned those glowing green and black helmets. Their appearance never came into question, everyone was used to <jungle>'s presence within the city by now. They had yet to go completely public, but to government officials from around the world and the higher class, their existence was commonplace. Business leaders, film actors, authors... even Japan's Prime Minister made their mark at this party. They all laughed and exchanged pleasantries in the same large room, with tables covered by green velvet clothes and a massive window providing a divine view of the night's view.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending the JUNGLE Boot-Up Reception.” The announcer's smooth voice quieted the attendants, and following it, majority of the lights went off, lighting only the stage up front. “Representing JUNGLE Corporation, the sponsor of this gala, CEO Yukari Mishakuji, would like to offer his words of welcome.”

 

The man himself appeared, his hair neatly combed back into a simple ponytail, and he stood unblinkingly in front of countless cameras that went off the second the spotlight highlighted him. With controlled energy, Mishakuji extended his arms out, welcoming the crowd. “Everyone, welcome to a new era.” Behind him, a green background revealing the Clan's logo appeared.

 

“Not hiding his face or name, that's bold,” Kusanagi muttered.

 

Seri felt the same. “They don't even feel the need to hide anymore.”

 

Mishakuji's booming voice kept their attention. “JUNGLE information network is no longer just a communication tool...”

 

It was 'a way of life'. One the would redefine what it meant to be human. The future that spread out before humanity... limitless.

 

The word left a bustle in the room. To officials, the unnatural power incidents helped push the deal. JUNGLE would install their system into relevant agencies. Rumours of officials getting their own unnatural power. To Japan's Prime Minister especially, today truly was a day to celebrate. He'd finally be able to dismiss Munakata from his position, and the dawn of JUNGLE was upon all of humanity.

 

What an absolute cur.

 

Passing him, Seri deliberately dug her heel into the Prime Minister's foot, cutting off his obnoxious, arrogant laughter. It absolutely wasn't part of the plan, but now, it was. She used the decision to her advantage, acting lightheaded and bumping into one of <jungle>'s Clansmen.

 

Seri sighed. “My apologies, I just need somewhere to rest.” She didn't put on any sort of helpless act, but, if these jokers really wanted to act like they had it in them to act like some party was as formal as it was, then one of them, the one she spoke to specifically, would have to oblige and direct her somewhere more secluded.

 

***

 

The Green Clansman fell with a heavy a thud.

 

“This feels more like a badger game,” Kusanagi commented.

 

Whatever it felt like to him, Seri just knew she got the job done. As she predicted, that man was more than happy to assist her. She shifted through the unconscious man's pockets, soon finding his PDA and handing it to Kusanagi. After just a few taps on its screen, they accessed the party's guest list. With this, they could weed out <jungle>'s movers and shakers, the one directly under the Clan's thumb.

 

The familiar clicking of a gun alerted Seri to the presence of more Green Clansmen tracking them down. For now, the narrower hallway she and Kusanagi stood in offered little room to defend themselves. The advantage of this large building was the fact that it'd be simple to find a more ideal area, but it led the risk of Clansmen just down the side corridors finding them just as easily. That, and battle on this particular floor would cause more unwanted commotion from party goers.

 

The end of the corridor's lift came into sight – their best chance to get away from the larger mass of Clansmen, and they kept their backs to the sliding open doors. Ultimately, a mistake. A large Green Clansman locked his arm around Seri's neck, and his free arm aimed straight for Kusanagi. Thinking quickly, Seri dug her elbow into the Green's chest. His aim and thinking thrown off, Seri pushed herself away from him. Her left hand kept a strong hold on his right arm, and soon her right hand got a hold of it too. She paid no mind to his attempt at aiming the gun at her, breezing behind him just enough to force his arm up and twist it at an unnatural angle, and soon heard the arm snap like a twig.

 

Careful not to step on her dress, Seri instantly went for the man's head this time, with precise force on the shoulder's pressure point. For good measure, she dropped low enough for her elbow to drive right into his back, and her knee slammed into the back of his, knocking him down on his back.

 

The lift door opened, and both Seri and Kusanagi ran out of it, now in an unlit area on the ground floor. Using the stolen PDA, Kusanagi opened the garage door.

 

“Seems we've given them the slip.”

 

Having said that, a dagger suddenly impaled the PDA, sparks of green covering it. The PDA and throwing knife slid across the floor, and with a small spark of its own, the PDA malfunctioned, rendered utterly useless.

 

That throwing knife's design... Seri recognised it.

 

**[Emergency mission complete. You've earned 3000 JUNGLE points.]**

 

Farther down the area, another PDA dimly lit up someone's figure. From this distance, Seri could barely make the person out, but, those throwing knives undoubtedly belonged to someone she knew.

 

**[You have ranked up!]** The app played a short fanfare, similar to victory music in a JRPG.  **[Saruhiko Fushimi has been promoted to J-rank of JUNGLE! Congratulations!]**

 

Green electricity from another throwing knife lit up Fushimi's stony face. In disbelief and denial, Seri called out to him, but he responded by throwing two more knives, both lit up a potent green.

 

Intolerant, Kusanagi whipped the two knives away with his fiery whip. “Fushimi! I'll hear your excuses after I send you to the hospital!” Fire illuminated his hand, and went straight for Fushimi.

 

Beneath Fushimi, the ground glew green, and an armoured, blond woman put her hand on his shoulder, and the two both disappeared.

 

A horrible feeling settled in Seri's stomach. After a month of not knowing where Fushimi was. Where he managed to find a place to sleep and eat, when and how, for that matter, if he was okay after all this time... all those questions mixed in with why he... he went down _that_ path.

 

***

 

A heavy, metal security gate separated into three different sections. Tokyo metro's great underground halls, deep underground passages like this that ran through the heart of the city. <jungle>'s J-ranks long usurped the area for their own, developing elaborate, tight security for their own sake. The heavy, metal security gate acted as their secret passage to their hideout, and connected hundreds of exits inside this city alone. Huge, thick pillars cluttered the area. Like basic main subways, the basement floors of skyscrapers.

 

For decades, some thought the place was, at one point, its own underground city. What led to this assumption was one man's purchase of an old map with various subways on it. The old map displayed two particular subways as parallel, yet modern maps display them intersecting. A major engineering inconsistency.

 

Afterward, more inconsistencies regarding the area's construction came to attention. An enormous car park underground, deep below buildings built above them, indicating that the space, for one reason or another, was built before buildings above it were independently constructed. The man who fervently researched the place, while greatly suspicious of how tightly the lips of government and military officials were of the underground halls, believes that the usage of the space during the Cold War was a reasonable possibility, and one kept from the public at one point for the sake of the enemy not catching on.

 

This, of course, was all speculation. It didn't affect <jungle> at all, and in fact, its mostly esoteric existence made things much, much easier on them in terms of privacy and security.

 

Was it really wise to dump all of that on the one who betrayed two Clans and joined another, was Fushimi's question.

 

The man who escorted him to <jungle>'s base, Yukari Mishakuji, spoke confidently and eloquently. “Of course, you _are_ a J-rank of  <jungle> now, after all. You're a comrade with whom we share our secrets.” Without a single drop of doubt in his voice, he proclaimed something as lofty as that. “That was quite the feat today, Saruhiko. You managed to take on HOMRA and Scepter 4's No. 2s all by yourself. You should have called for help, though. No need to try so hard.”

 

'Try hard'? “I don't play co-op...” Fushimi plainly said, “I'm not a fan of that stuff.”

 

“Liar.” The crisp response carried all the self-assured weight and knowing of a scholar, and, albeit briefly, Fushimi tensed, his watch of Mishakuji's back intensifying. “I know you hired U-rank member Douhan Hirasaka to work for you. That's rather bold, although I suppose PRiSM doesn't keep very tight holds on their Clansmen in general. I'm assuming their King gave the green light?”

 

The lilt in his voice certainly sounded like he asked a question, but nothing in his expression suggested ignorance on full details.

 

“Working together, you obtained twice the JUNGLE points, so you moved up in rank quickly. Very clever. Quite the cheater.”

 

Yeah, well, 'cheating' or not, their oh-so advanced system allowed it. “Was there a problem.”

 

“Of course not. I thought it was cunning and brilliant.” Somehow, any sort praise from this guy felt unwanted. “Besides, Nagare isn't bothered by foul play. In fact, I believe he likes people who think outside the box and aren't held back by... _'reputable'_ methods. That's our King. Being outsmarted isn't that bad to him, he almost seems to enjoy it.”

 

Finally, between the idle chatter, Mishakuji stopped in front of another large door. His PDA unlocked it, and those geometric linings on the door glew brightly with a loud, buzzing noise. The door separated itself into four sections, only to reveal a second layer whose sections spiraled open.

 

“Welcome, Saruhiko Fushimi. <jungle>'s secret base welcomes you.”

 

What greeted Fushimi, aside from an obnoxious welcome banner decorated with artificial flowers and ribbons, was a party gun, from which confetti slowly landed on top of his face. Right in front of his face.

 

The eldest man in the room, Tenkei Iwafune, greeted him the most enthusiastically, but his smile almost seemed forced, or at the least hinted at less excitement than he verbally expressed. In the back of the room, the Green King himself, Nagare Hisui, politely welcomed him with an almost warm smile. He said he was 'delighted', and the green bird on his shoulder flapped its shoulders, repeating his word like any other simple-minded bird would.

 

So... another of these things greeted him, instead of something as trite as an 'initiation' or sabre to grab onto, just to induct him into the physical <jungle> Clan...

 

“Thanks...”

 

“Well, let's not stand here talking,” Iwafune said, “sit down.” His smile became more natural, granted he now spoke of himself, boasting about how he actually went through the trouble of getting a 'feast' to celebrate.

 

On the single table in the 'room' was a black dish of vibrant, neatly arrayed sushi, certainly not the over the counter sort most people would settle for. Fatty tuna, sea urchin, salmon roe, even shrimp made up this meal.

 

Fushimi decided on just the egg.

 

“Huh?” Not even facing the table, Sukuna Gojo crossed his arms and sneered at Fushimi. “That's for kids.”

 

“Hey, speak for yourself.” Treating this like everyday banter, Iwafune put in sub-par effort to scold him. “We have more than sushi.” He waved a plate stacked with lettuce, fried chicken, and lemon slices in front of Fushimi's face.

 

“Eat chicken! Chicken!”

 

“Look who's talking, you stupid bird!”

 

By now, the fact that Gojo wasn't just keeping his back to the group, but rather, sulking, came to attention. The old man pressed him, asking if he was shy or just in a plain bad mood, but the kid stubbornly refused to answer.

 

To be honest, Gojo wasn't the only one displaying less than hospitable behaviour. A long-haired, dark-skinned girl rested on the couch, her back facing the 'party'. She kept absolutely still, seemingly on the verge of sleep. So that was Akina Manju, then?

 

“Ah.” Hisui followed Fushimi's scrutiny. “Please don't mind her. She mentioned being tired. She wouldn't have been too enthusiastic if I forced her to attend.”

 

“Wouldn't she have gone home or something?”

 

The snow-haired man shook his head. “For her, this is as close as it gets. She pulls her weight, so it isn't like she's free-loading.”

 

Manju sighed. “Stop talking about me when I'm right here.”

 

“My mistake.”

 

Despite her complaint, Manju sat up. Her sharp, dark blue eyes locked with Fushimi's. “Your cheap tricks allowed you to beat Sukuna's record in gaining J-rank. That's why he isn't worshiping the ground you walk on.”

 

Iwafune frowned. “Hey, Akina, don't be so rude. If you're not going to welcome or congratulate him, go back to sleep.”

 

The J-ranks stared at each other in silence, but Manju said nothing to him. Instead, she clapped her hands a single time, a blank look on her face. “You have massive commitment issues, congratulations.” After that, she lied back down on the couch in the position she started in.

 

Her words left an icy, uncomfortable chill in the hideout, but Gojo snickered audibly, ignoring the disapproving looks directed at him. This left Hisui the only one not affected by her curt behaviour. Actually, he elaborated on both of <jungle>'s youngest J-ranks, with their own impressive records, even if Fushimi beat both.

 

“Nagare, we can talk about that at another time.”

 

A surprisingly puzzled look crossed Hisui's face. “Why do you say that?” The parrot on his shoulder, in the mean time, took to chomping on his hair.

 

“Just because. Now, c'mon Sukuna. Stop being in a bad mood. First impressions really count in building healthy relationships. So smile!” Iwafune turned to Fushimi. “Right, Fushimi?”

 

Why ask him... “Not really.” He couldn't care less.

 

Iwafune's smile fell. “Oh, really?” He chugged from the beer can. “Okay, okay! If you wanna act cool, that's fine with me.”

 

For fuck's sake, what was _with_ these people and their personalities. “I'm not here to make friends.” That should have been obvious.

 

“Then why did you come?” Mishakuji finally broke his silence, a fox-like smile curving his lips.

 

Fushimi had no reason. To <jungle>, all this acting and commotion was just a game in the grand scheme of things, right? Curiosity over what happens at the highest level was only natural, and Fushimi acted on it. Would it change the way he saw things? That was his only question. Some 'sushi party' meant nothing to him, don't tell him it's all he got.

 

“Not at all. The real game starts here.” Quick sentences. No hesitation. Hisui, so far, did not act in a roundabout manner towards his J-ranks, Fushimi now no exception. “From now on, I'll be counting on you too... as a top <jungle> Clansman, J-rank Saruhiko Fushimi.”

 

“Just tell me what to do.” Fushimi'd clear any mission given to him. It was much, much easier to deal with than relationships anyway. This tiny base, three walls and a long spinning helicopter, set up with simple, dingy furniture in seemingly endless underground halls, all with the massive presence of the Dresden Slate. Those weren't difficult to deal with.

 

***

 

A series of images of displayed on Kameko's glass coffee table, all documenting last night's party, and, specifically, its more colourful guests. Seri Awashima and Izumo Kusanagi's footage of taking down a couple of Green Clansmen, and, more interestingly, their run-in with a former ally.

 

“My, my, so the monkey finally made his way into the jungle, hmm? Bit the hand that fed him... what a shame.” The footage automatically looped itself and switched to different angles, leaving Kameko free to recline in her chaise, gently spinning a glass of white wine in her hand. To be honest, she regretted allowing the young man to leave as easily as she did. Impulsive as he seemed, he'd make a good subject.

 

Three Auras? With the Dresden Slate's power released? You'd have to be some sort of fool to think such a collection wouldn't affect a person's life, be it physically or mentally.

 

Ah, speaking of which.

 

Another two profiles appeared. Ichigen's former students. The both of them were vital to keep an eye on, so future clashing between them could prove troublesome. Their former King, the Colourless King Ichigen Miwa, previously claimed the spot as the weakest living King, but he only succeeded in truly illustrating the gap between normal humans Kings. He had been a force to reckon with in his prime and even his later years, and expertly passed the skill down to two very, very valuable Clansmen to anyone who had them in the palm of their hands.

 

Impressive as they were, their skill wasn't Kameko's priority. Only their potential. The two who moved on from the 'weakest' Aura of the time to two potent Auras in their own right. Which would prove to display the larger effects? The one who climbed the list straight to the immortal First King, or the one with the King whose powered rivaled the late Gold King.

 

“Heh... putting it that way, the latter would be the most obvious conclusion. But the more important question is how it's affecting him. I could always pass it off as monitoring for abnormal power levels, there's no reason Clansmen wouldn't have personal abilities manifest... Then again, they're not that stupid, surely.”

 

Frankly, she didn't need an excuse. PRiSM, while not interested in the politics <jungle> took a shine to, dominated the scientific and supernatural nooks and crannies of this upcoming 'new age'. For every two 'unnatural' power incidents, four of her Clansmen would be on the scene in no time to ease panic and for the past month successfully cleared any doubts newborn Strains had about themselves. From that point on, PRiSM encouraged Strains to keep in contact with the Clan, along with directing them to <jungle>.

Further, PRiSM took charge of recording the Dresden Slate's development over the past month. Kameko and Hisui long since agreed the Slate would, officially, be under the latter's control, granted privileged access to the J-rank's secret base. For the most part, there weren't any discoveries, just the impressive spread of its power. For now, PRiSM merely monitored the Slate on a very close scale.

 

The influx of Strains indeed kept PRiSM busy as well, but the routine involved with advising and educating Strains remained much the same, albeit without Timeless Palace breathing down the Violet Clan's neck.

 

This 'new era' kept PRiSM busy, but Kameko much preferred the hustle and bustle of supernatural influxes over the trite lifestyle that came with <jungle>'s strive in national positions. Kameko kept updated in their activities of course, but she herself intended on avoiding any headaches like suffocating parties. She had plenty of reliable Clansmen more suited for that role.

 

The Dresden Slate at its full potential, the extent of which Strains could reach with unrestrained powers, and the effect of specific circumstances regarding Auras and their users... those were Kameko's priorities.

 

Just as PRiSM had its obligations to <jungle>, _< jungle>_ had obligations to _PRiSM_.

 

“Well, that can wait.” Kameko stretched, putting the glass down on the coffee table. She enlarged the faces of the Silver Clan's two Clansmen, chin resting in her hand. “For now, the Silver Clan just needs to show me what they're really made of.”

 

 

 


	14. Krone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 10 but with nifty Yashiro and Anna interaction + Klaudia angst.
> 
> "Krone" = "Crown". Not the ultimate title for this chapter but it's a good final chapter title and I'm claiming it before the anime has the chance to steal it from me.
> 
> Yaesu is located in Chuo, which is fairly known for a lot of its businesses and retail work. Along with having the east bullet trains. As aware I am that the K universe does alternate names with different spellings/meanings, I am not that creative :)

The Dresden Slate gleamed a ghostly, bluish-green hue on the concrete ground. <jungle>'s J-ranks, their King, and PRiSM's own No. 2 observed its activity.

 

“See this?” Standing the closest to the Slate, Sukuna's smug tone echoed throughout the area. “It's the Slate we stole from your previous King after he was defeated.”

 

Standing next to him, Fushimi's stare never left the glowing Slate. “So? I don't really care.”

 

“Well you should!” Irritatied that his egging on didn't succeed, Sukuna lashed out. “Now that you're a J-rank, you're not just a player, but also administrator of this game.” After his lecture, Sukuna blinked in realisation. “But don't let that go to your head. Just because you beat my record for becoming a J-rank in the shortest time doesn't mean-”

 

An amused voice cut him off. “Oh, I get it. You're sulking 'cos I beat your score. You're such a pain...”

 

Sukuna's mouth gaped at the insult. “What?!” Who the hell did this guy think he was. He only made it up so fast because he had Hirasaka's help! “I can't stand guys like you who rely on other players to win!”

 

“I depend on no one. But I will use tools.” Fushimi kept a lethargic appearance, and adjusted his glasses. “After all, that's what I specialise in.”

 

Who the hell cared? After a second of realising none of what Fushimi said mattered to him, Sukuna smiled, spinning the black staff of his around, pointing its end at Fushimi. “Say, wanna go a round against me?” They'd each put up 10,000 points, and since Fushimi couldn't even handle Sukuna _with_ someone's help, Sukuna would do him the favour of going real easy on him, just even things up.

 

Fushimi sighed. “Sounds like a pain.”

 

Sounded like trying to cop out of fear. “I won't kill you, don't worry.” After all, they were 'comrades', right?

 

“Knock it off.”

 

“Will you two it out?”

 

A strong hand gripped and tugged Sukuna up, his feet dangling significantly over the ground, and he met Akina's sharp, dark blue eyes. She didn't really seem angry, but she definitely didn't appreciate his egging Fushimi so much. Frankly, Sukuna could tolerate Akina picking him up as harshly as she did, given the fact that he saw Fushimi crouched down on the floor, holding his head in pain. Right behind him, Yukari stood, noticeably irritated.

 

“Stop being so hostile to each other. It's not pretty at all.”

 

“Why do I have to get hit?” Even though Akina still held him up, Sukuna couldn't help but feel the slightest superiority over the cringing Fushimi.

 

“Yukari must've gotcha real good with that brute strength of h--” Before Sukuna finished, Akina dropped him, only to smack the back of his head. Even then, her force wasn't as bad as Yukari's would have been.

 

“Listen,” Yukari began, “it's fine to fight among yourselfs, but this a critical time. We need you to act more responsibly.” The Slate would fully bloom soon. The rising, shining particles of that made it clear that its full power was just around the corner.

 

Rubbing the back of his head, Sukuna watched the floating particles, and the PRiSM Clansmen that silently recorded them. “Then Nagare's new stage begins, right?”

 

The tallest of PRiSM's, Yuko, nodded. “That's right. From what we can gather just from the energy's releease rate as of now, it shouldn't be too long until the Slate erupts like a volcano.” She tapped her pen on the clipboard she held. “Of course, that just means more work us,” she sighed, “and in such a small period of time.”

 

“Your efforts are appreciated.” From the back, Nagare spoke honestly. “I understand the influx of Strains has left you busy with clean-up and management, but your Clan's efficiency is impressive nonetheless. Please be sure to tell Miss Ryujin that as well.”

 

Spinning the pen around, Yuko nodded. “Uh-huh, got it.” She didn't indicate any interest in Hisui's response, completely immersed in the Slate. Cautiously, she held her hand up in front of its 'radiation'. “Yeah... I wouldn't even give this a weak. It's gradual, but it feels denser than last time.”

 

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Denser?”

 

“Denser. More potent. Stronger. However you wanna word it, Boy Wonder.”

 

“Don't call me that!” Sukuna scowled, watching the leakage of the Slate just barely reach the top of the base.

 

So the thing would 'erupt' soon, huh? And when that happened, the next phase of Nagare's plan would happen, with Sukuna as someone at the forefront. Smiling, he spun on his heel to Nagare, ready to boast about the plan, but someone tugged his back by his collar. Scowling, he found himself once more detained by Akina.

 

“Before you go,” she started, “I want you to let it sink in that his record isn't that significant.” She lacked a lecturing tone, but the way she spoke still made it seem like she had something more important than usual to say.

 

How meddlesome and nosy Akina got at times annoyed Sukuna, especially because it almost always involved him in some way, but at the same time, it was better getting talked to death than having someone hit him on his head. That, and she was talking about his old record.

 

“What about it?”

 

“You're powerful, you know that.” Akina looked over at Fushimi and Yukari, having their own conversation. “If there's one thing Yukari and I can agree on, it's that you're powerful. It's not like you have that much skill, but potential wise, your raw power is impressive. There's a reason you're depended on.”

 

'Depended on'. That didn't sound like a phrase in Akina's vocabulary. Granted, Sukuna doubted someone other than him would hear her say that.

 

Why was that?

 

“Hey, I appreciate the praise and all, but what gives?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sukuna leaned against his staff. “You're always in a bad mood here, especially with Iwa and Yukari, but you always end up nagging me about junk.” Sukuna didn't recall ever asking for a babysitter.

 

Akina leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. She sighed with closed eyes. “Would you rather I lump you up with people I dislike?”

 

Of course he didn't, but that still leaves the question as to why she doesn't.

 

“Seigo is a coward, and of all the people he could have tried to help, he chose the one that survived regardless. Fushimi has too much baggage to function with others, and Yukari's just a mindless blood-mongerer that covers the scent with perfume.” She meticulously listed them, one by one. She paid no mind to her volume, allowing her voice to echo throughout the hideout. “You're no better ethics wise, but I don't have a good reason to personally dislike you, so there you have it.”

 

What the hell sort of explanation was that? Akina kept something from Sukuna, he could tell by how controlled her posture was. He also knew that, no matter how much he pressed, she'd be stubborn and never give him a straight answer.

 

***

With Kuroh and Neko out, Shiro and Anna sat at the coffee table surrounded, by Shiro's research. Silence divided them, and the weight of knowing his own plan swung over Shiro's head like a pendulum.

 

“Yashiro, what did you decide?”

 

Drawing in a long breath, Shiro cleared his throat. “If this is what the Dresden Slate has to offer, instead of any ideal I came up with, then we need to destroy it.”

 

Anna's eyes widened, and shimmered uncertainly. “Destroy it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Klaudia's research gave them a way to stop the Slate's mechanism. He knew her findings would never lead him astray, even now.

 

The uncertainty dimmed from Anna's eyes, and now worry clouded them. “Yashiro, you said your dedicated your life to a dream with the Sl--”

 

What Shiro wanted didn't matter. He apologised for interrupting Anna, but emphasised that this had to be done. “Anna, make sure you don't mention this to anyone beyond your Clan and Munakata.” He looked outside the window. “I want this mentioned as little as possible.”

 

Their opponents had with them a claircognisant King. Shiro had no idea how or when the Colourless King would pick up on Shiro's plan, or if she would in the first place. Would she just know? Did the info need a physical or verbal trigger? Were thoughts al it took? How much would she pick up on? The whole story, or just bits and pieces? As casually as she took the second Mihashira Tower incident, she knew how valuable her power as in the grand scheme of things, and she definitely already knew that they had very, very little intel on her and her single Clansman...

 

“Yashiro.” Anna stared him down intensely. “No matter what, we won't fail.”

 

The fierce conviction in her words burned through Shiro's racing mind, and his thoughts came to a slow yield. “Yeah.” Absently, he glanced to the photo with his sister and the Lieutenant in it. Soon, he picked it up, studing its details.

 

“Yashiro?”

 

“Klaudia always got on my case for giving up prematurely when things got too difficult for me.” He paused, focused on her smile. “But during Dresden's bombing, I was so hung up on retrieving documents. So determined I risked my life, but she ended up the one who paid the price.” His free hand traced over random documents. All copies Klaudia made prior to that day in April. “Anna, I can't say I'll miss something that drove me to that decision.”

 

“It wasn't stupid. You didn't know it'd happen,” Anna said, “you were trying to protect both of your dreams and hard work.”

 

Shiro appreciated her support, his heart ultimately disagreed. To the point where he neglected to thank her, instead once again looking outside into that vast, cloudy winter sky.

 

_Lieutenant, I can hear you berating me for this 'half-baked atonement' from all the way down here._

 

***

 

The Prime Minister had Reisi Munakata impeached. He sat there, in his chair, and told that to Seri with a smile. On the desk, he set down a single, important piece of paper – the official impeachment of Reisi Munakata.

 

He rationalised his authority to do this by pointing out that, officially, Scepter 4 operated under Tokyo's family registry system, nothing but civil servants under the government. His Excellency's interference had been the only thing keeping Scepter 4 so comfortable, and now, he was dead, so there was no one left to bar the 'actual government' from acting.

 

He spoke so smugly, with a satisfied smirk on his face. Seri wanted to smack him. To lash out, but she controlled herself, slamming her hands down on that dreadful man's desk with great force.

 

“His Excellency passes away, and Reisi Munakata takes over. Not two weeks later, and the Slate is stolen.”

 

He waved the paper in his hand.

 

“I value regulation above all else.”

 

***

 

The weight of Yashiro's decision clogged Anna's heart all the way back to HOMRA. Walking in, she silently took in Izumo and Misaki's greetings, and took a seat on the bar stool. When asked where she'd been, she answered, and, after a moment, finally got to business.

 

“Yashiro made up his mind. To destroy the Slate. The symbol of his dreams.”

 

Izumo stopped wiping the glass. “You sure you're okay with this, Anna?”

 

The Dresden Slate took her family from her – her parents murdered and her aunt left without a clue as to her niece's existence. She endured burning, choking, drowning, blackmail, and trauma because of the Slate's existence and the clairvoyance it thrust upon her.

 

In the same breath, it allowed her to meet a vibrant, beautiful red that saved her life, and all the colourful, warm personalities that followed and trusted him, that she too came to love and cherish dearly. The Slate's influence over that beautiful red, however, pushed Mikoto far beyond his limits, and he suffered deeply because of it. Now, that influence threatened to spread over countless of innocent lives.

 

Tightening her fits, looking up with a level stare. All her life, all she could do was watch fate unfold from the sidelines. That was different now.

 

“If this red's destiny is to destroy... then I'll destroy the fate that threatens the ones I care about.”

 

Izumo understood. “Ever since I found those documents in Germany, I knew this day was bound to come.”

 

“Yes.” Anna nodded. “All that's left is-”

 

The abrupt ringing of the entry bell cut Anna off, and in walked the Blue King, swearing street clothing with that usual smile on his face.

 

“Reisi.” His appearance hadn't surprised Anna in the least. After all, she'd been the one that requested his arrival.

 

“Hello.” With saying anything else, he walked to a seat just one away from where Anna sat. He kept quiet until Izumo set down a simple drink for him. The glass reflected Reisi's violet eyes.

 

“What, may I ask, was the purpose for calling me out so abruptly, Red King?”

 

Mentally bracing herself, Anna looked at the man on equal grounds. “I wanted to speak to you. We're going to destroy the Slate.”

 

“I see.” Reisi pulled out a cigar pack, Blue Sparks, pulling a cigar out by the mouth. Without lighting it, he spoke again. “I agree that's it's certainly an option to break the current deadlock.” The clicking of Izumo's lighter caught his attention, and he nonchalantly accepted the bartender's offer to light his cigar.

 

“So you smoke?”

 

“Only on rare occasions.” Reisi tapped ash from the cigar into a star-shaped ashtray. “To you, destroying the Slate would mean revenge for Mikoto Suoh's death,” he summed up.

 

Izumo busied himself with putting the spirit bottle back in its rightful on the shelf. “True, but it's not that simple. The Slate gave him life, and also killed him... It gave us many things, but also took. It's not like destroyin' the Slate will give me any gratification. But I've come to feel it's somethin' that must be destroyed.”

 

Reisi agreed with him, blowing out a quick puff of smoke. “However, the late Gold King, Daikaku Kokujoji, is the one that made out country what it is today.”

 

The Dresden Slate was deeply rooted into the _nation_ itself.

 

“We can't talk like that anymore,” Izumo disagreed, “Hisui'll release the Slate's power in order to give _everyone_ powers, and then Ryujin monopolises all of them.” He turned to Reisi sharply. “It that happens...”

 

Listening in, Anna's heart fell.

 

“Yes.” Inhaling and exhaling more smoke, Reisi never met Izumo's eyes. “That must be avoided at all costs. But if the Green and Violet Kings want a revolution, and the Red King has decided on destruction, I, the Blue King, will aim for order.” His matter-of-fact tone never faltered, rather, it strengtehened. “The Slate must be regulated and controlled properly.

 

“They way you are now, I doubt you can pull that off.” Subtly, but surely, Izumo's remark shifted the bar's mood. “Anna's worried about you, too.”

 

He was right, Anna was. Reisi's sword reached its limit. If he pushed himself any further, his Sword of Damocles would fall.

 

Reisi stared at her, a small gleam of understanding in his eyes before he calmly looked away with a short laugh.

 

Izumo narrowed his eyes. “Is it something to laugh about?”

 

“I just thought it was ironic that the situation reversed from a year ago.”

 

'Reversed'?

 

“I also tried reasoning with the Red King once.” The third puff of smoke felt different from the previous times. More scattered. “Although it was in vain.”

 

Mikoto drove himself into a corner more and more during his reign, until, finally, an awful King pushed over the edge. At the cost of slaying that King, despite Reisi's best efforts to dissuade him, Mikoto lost his life. Now, Reisi found himself on the other side of the mirror, with Nagare Hisui pushing _him_ into a corner.

 

“You're not like Mikoto,” Anna stated. Their ideals, their methods, their goals, their personalities... Destruction and order... Even if one couldn't exist without the other's own actions, they still lived independently.

 

Reisi's eyes noticeably widened, but he composed himself with another inhale and exhale of the cigar smoke. Even the way they _smoked_ was different. Heavy, thick feelings and thoughts clung to the clouds of smoke Mikoto exhaled, but Reisi's were steady streams with unsaid, scattered words spreading in the air.

 

“I never dreamed the day would come where _I'd_ be the one being admonished... I was so sure his was a foolish path.”

 

Anna didn't mean to admonish him. “Reisi...”

 

“In any case, the alliance of the three Kings is no longer valid.”

 

The uneasy feeling grew in Anna's stomach, but she listened for Reisi's explanation as patiently and intently as ever. What she heard surprised her, what she saw on Reisi's face worried her.

 

It was the face of a man reflecting on his own failures. “Today, I receieved a notice from the government relieving me of my duties. I'm no longer able to assist you as the leader of my Clan.”

 

“Even if you're no longer the captain, you're still the Blue King.” As if playing Devil's Advocate, Izumo maintained his stance. In his warm eyes, a sharp look bored into Reisi. “What happens to the Blues, your Clansmen, who are at a loss right now?”

 

Instead of answering, Reisi smiled, and proceeded to stand up.

 

“Reisi!” On her stool, Anna watched Reisi's back disappear behind the door.

 

***

 

Last month, the night after Christmas, Fuyu's plain, empty white room filled up with stuffed animals. She recalled mentioning that she wanted a stuffed animal or two, but, instead, she ended up a substantial collection of them. A stuffed snake and rabbit from Shiki, a few stuffed bears of different patterns and colours from Yasuda, and a combined collection of other miscellaneous animals from Yuko and other PRiSM Clansmen made up most of the haul.

 

Naturally, Fuyu held the stuffed snake to her chest, sitting in solitary silence on her bed. On her nightstand, a sizable pile of audio books stacked up, her ear buds on top of them, but she didn't feel any motivation to focus on a single story and its events. She wasn't bored persay, but her mind felt too empty to focus on something and stay occupied.

 

The Slate ended up in <jungle>'s possession since last month. Strain activity skyrocketed, and as a result, so did PRiSM's. The building's main floors all bustled with the noise of freaked out people getting slam dunked into a supernatural world they only read about in fantasy novels, but the rooming floor might as well be deserted.

 

Fuyu would have _liked_ to help, but ultimately, she knew she didn't have nearly the amount of experience as the others did when dealing with PRiSM's main role, especially in a new age revolving around, in very plain terms, the 'creation of Strains'. Even then, anyone not assigned to consultations immersed themselves with observing the Slate at  <jungle>'s hideout. That left Fuyu stuck in her room, preferring to stay out of everyone's way. The only other person who wouldn't be occupied was Shiki, but over the past month, Fuyu noticed that he'd been _'off'_.

 

Since the day they met, Fuyu knew Shiki as a quiet, shy person. He had mild manners, never speaking out of turn when in the presence of others, and always kept to the corner of rooms whenever possible. He disliked eating in front of others, but always carried a small bag of sweets with him, since they helped him relax when he felt especially stressed and anxious. Sometimes, Fuyu couldn't help but compare him to an abandoned wolf pup or something. Regardless, he was also a very honest boy, and friendly to most people once he felt comfortable with them. He stayed by Fuyu's side almost as much as Akina had, and his companionship increased after Akina's leaving. He provided quiet support, all the while alert and attentive.

 

Now, though, he changed. Subtly, but just enough for Fuyu to notice. For one, he spaced off more than usual, sometimes for several minutes when visiting Fuyu. And lately, he refused to answer when asked if something was wrong, instead changing the subject to mundane topics like the weather. His tense body language worsened, and so did the bags under his dark eyes. Fuyu almost felt the increasing distance between them, like slowly diverging plates.

 

Fuyu hugged the stuffed snake tighter, feeling the thought rumble in the back of her throat and dispense into her chest. Her head, on the other hand, left her mixed up and dizzy, to the point where the room appeared to tilt to the right just slightly.

 

Shiki was just stressed out because of the recent turn of events. Fuyu knew he didn't like <jungle>'s plan from the start, but he never acted on that, just like Fuyu didn't. They weren't happy with what unraveled, but now the results reared their ugly head everyday without end. The Slate neared its full potential with every ounce of its power the released into the Kanto region, rapidly increasing in its influence. They had themselves to blame for their own inaction and compliant behaviour, and their similar feelings left them the only two who felt that way. They couldn't separate, otherwise the like-minded individuals would never have someone else to express their thoughts to.

 

He. Would not. Leave her. He was her first and only Clansman, and before then, someone very close to him, like a little brother, and he looked up to her and Akina deeply. There was no way he'd go behind their backs and leave or something, even if, technically, Akina was no longer one of them.

 

Fuyu's hands ran over her bed, trying to guide them to her phone by touch and sound. Eventually, she found it, and eagerly flipped it open without even looking at the Caller I.D.

 

“Fuyu?”

 

Her agitation ebbing away, Fuyu gave a long, drawn out sigh. “Shiki! Where are you right now? In the city? The park?”

 

After some silence, Shiki answered., “I'm at the park.” The park itself was in Kiba, but PRiSM set itself up in Yaeju, a little over half an hour away by foot.

 

A few years ago, that park, with its small playground, was an important place to Shiki, Fuyu, and Akina, but only Shiki made the time to still go there, always alone, to boot. As much as Fuyu herself missed the place, she couldn't bring herself to go there without all three of them. It'd been months, close to a year, since her last visit.

 

Fuyu flopped her head down on her pillow, slowly sinking in and listening to the soft crunch of the pillow's stuffing. Her dark brown eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

 

“...say, Shiki...”

 

“Huh?”

 

“When will you be coming back?”

 

Shiki once again thought to himself in silence, leaving Fuyu no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Impatient, Fuyu proceeded to ask him questions. Granted, they were ones she already asked a month ago, but never got an answer for.

 

“So, are there are lot of kids at the park?

 

 

“Uh-uh. It's basically deserted.” And knowing Shiki, he probably made himself comfortable at the top of an empty, yellow slide. “The Strain incidents have people too scared to come to places like this.”

 

“Yeah, that makes sense. It'd suck to suddenly develop pyrokinesis and burn a playground full of children to a crisp.”

 

“Fuyu.” The comment went over Shiki's head, and now he spoke in an oddly firm voice. Fuyu encouraged him to keep talking, but a stiff silence followed. If Fuyu didn't know any better, she'd thought Shiki dropped the call, but the faint sound of wind on the other end. As much of a King as Fuyu was, however, she couldn't read Shiki's mind. She just laid there, patiently waiting for Shiki to keep talking.

 

Her mind drifed off. She thought of HOMRA's Red King, a girl no older than twelve years old with marble-red, strong eyes. No matter what Fuyu said to her on Christmas Eve, Kushina never faltered. She weakened, yes, but that didn't stop her from holding her own. Unlike most people, she managed to get past her own 'baggage'. The complete opposite of Shiki. Meanwhile Isana seemed a bit of an oddball. Like someone clawing his way out of a hole he knew he had to get out of, except he was declawed. Definitely trying his best, but he didn't have the right equipment. Not yet.

 

“They're not bad people.”

 

The comment snapped Fuyu out of it. Holding the stuffed snake up with her phone tucked between her shoulder and head, Fuyu rose an eyebrow. Who were 'they'?

 

“The Silver Clansmen. When I was on the tower with them... they weren't bad people.”

 

“Yeah, I get what you're saying. Objectively speaking, we're the bad people.”

 

“Because... we stole something?”

 

“For <jungle> and PRiSM, yeah.” Fuyu twirled a strand of her wavy hair. “But... when it comes to us, we're just bad because we let them kick the underdogs. Not that I have it in me to turn a 180 _now_.”

 

No way. Absolutely not. Fuyu wouldn't jeopardise what she _still_ had now. Whatever this 'new era' had in store for the world, she wouldn't be the one that speaks out against it. She'd keep any strong opinions buried deep. Keep a neutral outlook on things. Nothing more and nothing less. Hopefully, Shiki had the sense to do the same. Not that she would order him to.

 

She rolled upwards, now resting both her stuffed snake and head on her knees. “Shiki, don't worry about it. Aside from this and that, nothing's changed for us. I don't want it to. I miss Akina, but there's no forcing her back. I'm worried about the Slate's effects, but there's no stealing it back ourselves. Besides, doing one or the other might hurt her.”

 

“...yeah.”

 

Fuyu smiled. “We have it good, there's no point in biting the hand that feeds us.”

 

***

 

The pile of research papers increased, and not an inch of the coffee table could be seen at this point. In fact, papers spread from the table to the floor and bed. Shiro's plan to destroy the Slate sprawled out in front of the Silver Clan. In every painstaking detail.

 

“Is that really possible?” Kuroh asked.

 

“Until now, it was thought the Slate is indestructible.” Shiro waved the papers around. “So even the Green King won't expect this. It's the only way to fix this hopeless situation.”

 

Unconvinced, Kuroh narrowed his eyes. “Isn't such a method dangerous?”

 

Shiro smiled weakly. “Well, I'll just have to ask you trust me as a researcher.”

 

Neko rose her hand, waving it around enthusiastically. “I do! I believe in you, Shiro!” She scooted much closer to Shiro, bumping her head against his shoulder.

 

“Neko, thank you.” Shiro pat her hair down, not at all minding the close proximity. Support constantly radiated off of Neko, and it consistently kept Shiro's morale up. He had unending appreciation for that.

 

“I believe in you as well!”

 

Kuroh's outburst caught Shiro's attention, and a wry smile crept onto his face seeing Kuroh clear his throat. The vassal quickly regained his composure.

 

“Of course, I believe I in you,” he repeated, “we'll do what we must together, and then come home together as well.”

 

His confident declaration surprised Shiro, and his 'together' left a decent weight within the dorm. Right, Shiro was sure that this plan included him coming back alive. He had a home and friends to return to, after all. The nagging sensation in the back of his head told him that it'd be irresponsible of him to hold himself to such an expectation, but, for now, he could at least hope that 'together' would be possible.

 

Without fault, Shiro reached over and casually pat the vassal's head as well, ignoring that exasperated look shot his way. “I trust believe in my Clansmen as well.” Ah. “That reminds me...”

 

From his pocket, Shiro pulled out three small, black and white tablets, designed with a silver double-headed eagle, a well-known symbol of most European countries. It symbolised things from high rank to more abstract concepts such as triumph. Silver letters wrote out Weiß König der Silber. Although the translation wasn't exact, it loosely translated to “White King of Silver”.

 

Neko tilted her head. “What are they?”

 

“Well, we didn't have a Clan name nor symbol.” He smiled lightly. “I was a bit jealous of the other Clans.” Both Neko and Kuroh, in their own ways, admired the tablets. Listening to their comments, Shiro went on. “While we're at it, I thought we should give the Clan a name too.” Of course, he believed that the man carrying all the poetry around with him should have the honour of bestowing the Clan's name.

 

“Me?”

 

“Mmhmm. Think of something really cool.”

 

Kuroh stared at Shiro as if the King just dropped the weight of the world upon him. He took in every detail of the Clan's new insignia with a contemplative look. “What best describes us?” He looked around the room, searching for inspiration. His search stopped, focusing on the rice cooker kept on a stand in the front corner of the kitchen, just below the calender. Under his breath, he said something Shiro couldn't make out.

 

Once more clearing his throat, Kuroh nodded to himself. “Okay, I've decided.” Shiro and Neko were all ears. Kuroh held the insignia in his hand, a serene, serious look on his face. “Our Clan name is...” Very deliberately, he placed the tablet down on the table. “White Rice Party.”

 

How serious he said that. The unwavering conviction and determination in his eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes.” Kuroh crossed his arms. “Rice is a staple in our diet. The foundation of a healthy body. And you love white rice...” He looked at Shiro expectantly. “Right?”

 

Under that stare, Shiro felt the need to move back a little. “Uh, yeah...”

 

Neko shot up, a huge smile on her face as she admired her tablet. “White Rice Party!”

 

_Inside the white rice_

_Is where you will discover_

_Your true happiness_

 

The familiar, smooth voice played from its voice recorder, and Kuroh beamed at the immortalised wisdom of Ichigen Miwa's poetry.

 

A part of Shiro fancied the idea that the poetic King literally saw this unfolding of events coming a mile away. “Since we're always at the table, I guess it fits us perfectly. Right, we're the White Rice Party. We'll stick together and do our best!”

 

Neko jumped back to him, agreeing wholeheartedly. Watching her, something jogged in Shiro's mind.

 

“Neko, Nagare Hisui called you Miyabi Ameno” He must have looked into her past, and knew about her before she became Neko. If they questioned him...

 

Neko's smile fell. It _crashed_. “Shiro!” She cut him off, her dual-coloured eyes in something close to a frenzy. “I'm Neko! I'm Shiro's Neko!” An almost desperate tone laced her voice, and she clamped her hands around Shiro's with surprising strength.

 

Taking in her reaction, Shiro nodded. “Right, sorry.”

 

Approaching them, Kuroh knelt down. “Both Neko and I are here as your friends. That's all that matters. I'm going to follow you to the end, and I won't be a burden to you.”

 

Neko, having recovered from her panic, jumped up. “Me too!”

 

Shiro's appreciation for these two would never simmer down, would it. “Let's do this together then. The first thing to do is find <jungle>'s headquarters.”

 

An overwhelming, stinging, stabbing ringing pounded in Shiro's head. Any thoughts in his head ceased, leaving nothing but that awful, acute pain. As if it'd help, he instinctively covered his head with his hands, clutching tight in an effort to stop the stabbing sensation. It felt like it spread. Not just to his head, but the core of his heart and existence. He barely noticed Neko and Kuroh, both at his side asking what was wrong, and he didn't have it in him to answer.

 

He knew it. In the midst of the screeching and scraping pain of his mind, he knew this was because of the Dresden Slate. Its power, in a single surge, released its full potential.

 


	15. Klarheit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA that chapter with a buncha girls in it.

A stabbing pain throbbed in Fuyu's head, and all she could see outside was a blindingly green beam shoot up into the sky. Stumbling to the window, she focused on the green light outside, with her hands clutched on either side of her head.

 

The Dresden Slate's power poured into the entire world. The so-called supernatural apparatus now moved in the direction of humankind's 'evolution'. With nobody left to suppress the Slate's power, its full power exploded into the world. From Fuyu's understanding, the Green King believed that this would end in the evolution of people into 'Kings'. Powerless, clueless people now had within them the capacity of a King's full potential. A phenomenal development destined to destroy current order in place for a new world.

 

The statements and opinions of <jungle>'s top tier flooded into Fuyu's head. They must have been speaking to each other, each one with a racing, excited heart. To Hisui and Iwafune, the development meant that people now had within them the power to control and defend their own fate, as if to protect themselves from senseless death. To Gojo, it just set the stage up for another game, and for Mishakuji, this became the 'paradise of natural selection'.

 

Of the four Clansmen in that single underground base, Fuyu only agreed with the one who felt the whole idea 'sounded like shit'.

 

***

 

Kameko leaned back in her chair, tossing the stack of papers onto her desk. From the looks of it, reports of 'unnatural power incidents' skyrocketed since noon, and left most places in states of emergency. Explosive damages, understandably, were the governments' top concern, and plenty of local areas would need PRiSM's assistance in general.

 

There was bound to be the rare extrasensory perception ability, plenty of the more likely ones to manifest bordered on psychokinetic in their own way, so sending the PK units would more than suffice. Anyone exhibiting anything less could easily be referred to the ESP unit later.

 

This distinction between PK and ESP became vital over the recent month.

 

PK, in its simplest terms, dealt with any power that affected the external world, such as pyrokinesis or electrokinesis. These were Strains capable of turning thoughts into something that can 'manipulate' matter and energy. Within just PK were two sub-groups: macro and micro. Macro-kinesis simply dealt with PK abilities visible to the naked eye, and micro-kinesis, PK abilities relating to the unseen, yet direct, _manipulation_ of events and their outcomes.

 

Regarding ESP, these were the abilities relating to acquiring information without little to no physical sensory interference. To most people, this was a sixth sense or gut instinct. This category referred to abilities such as clairvoyance, claircognisance, precognition, and telepathy. Even the gaining of knowledge from an object from simply touching it classified as ESP, being just the connection of the Strain's energy to the object's. Although not necessarily required, if one were required to divide ESP into two sub-groups of its own, 'remote' and 'tangent' were the best choices, the latter referring to the need for some direct channel of energy to form in order to gain information.

 

None of this was new to Kameko, nor her Clansmen and employees. Over the past month, it became increasingly clear that any knowledge the average citizen had of supernatural abilities were sub-par in a 'new era' the depended so heavily on said powers. One had to wonder if it would become necessary to incorporate some sort of educational unit on PK and ESP for future generations to have any idea the sort of world they were in store for. If that were to happen, PRiSM already had a monopoly on any educational position regarding it. It'd be a piece of cake to dominate the field in no time.

 

Ah, but the headache of arranging travel fees for global instruction sounded so tedious. Not to mention the diplomatic mess the Prime Minister must be buried under eventually affecting PRiSM. They must have been scrambling for some word from <jungle>, and no doubt the panic of UPI ended up with rioters ready to storm into their ever-so-responsible minister's residence. At this point, the Prime Minister was completely defenceless, and dare Kameko say _useless,_ especially since he so eagerly dismissed the _one man_ who would provide his residence protection, so any arrangements for educational establishment would end in a controversial headache for Kameko exclusively.

 

The importance of the current government took a nosedive, so even if the Prime Minister grovelled for either Scepter 4 or <jungle>'s help, his well-being was of no one's concern.

 

“Politics are so tedious.”

 

An employee stared blankly. “Between their own knowledge and size, wouldn't <jungle> be able to provide a way to expand our resources?”

 

Kameko opened up the Clan's file, skimming over details, especially Hisui's. “Yeah, especially since their King's life support is in full throttle now. He's not as confined to sedentary tasks as he previously was.”

 

Kameko's doubts stemmed from the fact that he doubted he has much interest in it. The Green Clan, as innovative as it was, had a top tier of Clansmen living in an archaic mindset of “survival of the fittest”, and so far, it left PRiSM with the task of keeping things within a reasonable order. Luckily, it suited PRiSM's King just fine. The ability to have such subtle influence reflected her perfectly, and as tied up as her Clansmen felt, they couldn't deny the satisfaction of seeing PRiSM's existence spread so evenly.

 

To top it off, their influence in this world left them unscathed. No on dared to bite the hand that fed them, so <jungle>'s lowly Clansmen kept their grubby hands to themselves and never ventured into PRiSM's domain. Besides, the minute they did, <jungle>'s top tier knew it'd mean the end of the tentative cooperation between green and violet.

 

“Doctor... was helping that Clan a good idea?”

 

Kameko huffed. “Of course it was. When you put it into the big picture, this is an invaluable opportunity to observe the Dresden Slate and those it affects. Additionally, as long as the other three Clans fight back, we have chances to continue observing our three subjects. This is an opportunity to study Strains, how the Slate truly affects them,

 

“<jungle>'s Mishakuji described it as a world of 'Kings against Kings'... isn't the term 'Strain' obsolete now?”

 

“In a world where everyone's a 'King', no one has any authority. 'Strain' is still the best term to utilise. We Kings exist, but our existence is still nowhere near the population of Strains. I doubt the release of the Slate's power affects anything we've known about biowave compatibility and how that corresponds to who is and isn't a King.” Which just made this an ideal time to really see what made someone completely compatible with the Slate, rather than just partially. The Slate's release led to this prime opportunity in PRiSM's life. There was no reason to feel bad about it.

 

Granted, the one issue that could arise is a power struggle. Between both diplomatic parties and the general public. That, too, could raise questions. Would PK-Strains be more troublesome on a global scale, rather than just national? How would cultural differences affect ESP-Strains? What really contributed to how a certain power manifested in a person?

 

The mind of a scientist never left a single detail unquestioned. Nothing could be overlooked nor taken for granted. Not a single detail.

 

***

 

Chaos broke through the entire school island.

 

Kukuri heard a myriad of panic and explosions. She saw Mishina's hand sparked green, shocking him away from the window, and when Sumika tried to help him, her hand burned a vibrant red, somehow triggering the sprinkler system. She even saw Sakura Asama, doing her best to calm another group of students, suddenly shriek and jerk her hand, now curling with a wiry violet ribbon, away from them, and droplets of it corroded the pavement.

 

At a loss, Kukuri's olive eyes focused on the bright green pillar surging into the sky. Very faintly, she felt its power. No doubt, people outside of Ashinaka, no, Japan, just now experienced a tumultuous disaster. It was just like the global-scale fallout responsible for the setting of every post-apocalyptic story.

 

Staying inside the school building, with all of the explosions, was the worst possible idea, and many students already began to evacuate it, running outside and doing their best to avoid getting hurt by the frenzy of powers crashing through walls, windows, and ceilings.

 

Just like a year ago, explosions deafened the ears of students and staff alike. The only difference being that, this time, students, unwittingly were the cause, instead of some gang that decided to attack their school all for some manhunt. Now, students and staff caused the damage themselves.

 

Kukuri felt her hand resonate with something. Forcing herself to look, she watched her hand shine. Although the centre of her hand appeared with a faint, nearly indistinguishable golden rim, the rest it shrouded itself in a bright white. Her mind blanked into the mixture of panic surrounding her. With a racing heart, a heavy energy just itching to burst from her, Kukuri looked away from her hand, eyes shut tight. She couldn’t imagine what would follow the damage destined to ensue. She didn’t want to.

Someone’s firm grip wrapped around Kukuri’s wrist, and in that single instant, quelled the energy and panic coursing through her.

 

“Just in time.” An airy voice caught Kukuri's attention. Next to her, Shiro smiled gently, with Neko and Kuroh behind him. In the midst of chaos, they stood unfazed. No, that wasn't right. Kukuri sensed faint energy streaming from Shiro.

 

“There's something I need you to do,” Shiro said, “and only you can do this.”

 

Kukuri blinked, and the white noise of yelling distracted her. She scanned the school grounds absently, watching students panic and try to help or avoid one another. Watching the discord, an acute conviction filled her heart. She had a responsibility for this school, and she didn't need Shiro to tell her what it was. She already knew.

 

What she didn't know was what the trio before her planned on doing.

 

Shiro looked over the crowd, spinning his trademark umbrella. “We have something to deal with, don't worry.” His smile fell. “Kukuri, no matter what, when PRiSM arrives, don't let them convince anyone to go along with them.”

 

PRiSM? That organisation that kept helping with the unnatural power incidents?

 

“I can't explain it all right now, but you have to trust me, Kukuri.”

 

Kukuri nodded. “Got it. But, Shiro, you three...”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Whatever you have to do... make sure you three are safe!”

 

Behind Shiro, with her arms around Kuroh's, Neko nodded. “Don't worry, Kukuri! We'll be a-okay!”

 

Her assurance made Kukuri smile. “Right. I'll do my best here. You do the same where you're heading.”

 

At the last minute, something dawned on Kukuri. Dozens of year-old images flooded her mind. Images of a light-hearted, white-haired classmate mooching off everyone else, all with an airy, ephemeral air to him.

 

“Yashiro... Shiro?” She knew him. She _knew_ him. Not just as a friend of her friends, but as a friend himself. The absent-minded friend that never knew where his PDA was and always seemed to get away with whatever he wanted in class.

 

Closing her eyes, Kukuri took a deep breath, and her mind felt clearer. With a clenched fist, she ran back inside. She knew that the school kept a megaphone in its general recreational room, and along the way, she could soothe the worries of people she passed. The first person she ran into was Sumika, freaked out and shaking.

 

“Sumika, are you okay?”

 

The long-haired girl nodded, and stared at her hand. “It stopped burning, but... what's going on? What was that green light? It's just like last time...” With her back against the wall, she started to slide down to the floor, clearly exhausted.

 

Kukuri nodded, and propped Sumika up in a secure hug. “Sumika, as soon as I get the megaphone, I can make sure everything calms down.”

 

“How?”

 

Kukuri smiled. “Just believe me! We'll get through this no problem, leave it to me.” Peering into the recreational room just across from them, Kukuri honed in on the megaphone. She eased Sumika down so that she didn't completely collapse on the floor. “When you get better, make sure to get outside, okay?”

 

“Okay.” From where she sat, Sumika watched Kukuri rush in and out of the recreational room, megaphone at hand. “Kukuri, good luck!”

 

The brunette saluted her. “Leave it to me!”

 

Kukuri ran outside as fast as she could, once more immersed in the sounds of yelling and explosions. The best place she thought of to get some higher ground was the campus' water fountain, so, without slowing down, ran up on its rim, and spun around to the crowd of students.

 

She took a deep breath, readying herself for a loud exclamation. “Everyone!”

 

Although some students managed to turn to her, not everyone did.

 

_Okay, Kukuri... you know what to do._

 

“ _Everyone!”_

 

That got everyone's attention.

 

“Please remain calm and act rationally. I know how scared you must feel to have these strange powers all of a sudden... But you can suppress it!” She faced the uncertain stares of dozens of students. “Try to remember what happened last time, when the school was under attack. We must become like the man who saved us!”

 

Like Shiro. She remembered. She _remembered_. That assuring, gentle, lonely smile of Shiro's when he was here at school, and when he appeared to everyone with reassurance during the attack.

 

“This power isn't something to be used for destruction! It's something to protect ourselves! So please...” Please, please calm down. Everyone knew, deep down, that they had it in them to suppress these powers. Kukuri was sure of it.

 

She overheard the students speaking to themselves.

 

“The attack...”

 

“That's right! There was that guy who helped us!”

 

The volume of conversation grew louder and louder, this time not out of panic, but relief.

 

In the midst of the eased murmur, however, Kukuri overheard two distinctly deeper voices. Too deep for normal students. Looking over the crowd, she spotted two young men clad in black suits, nothing short of the typical government official you would see in a suspense movie. Each had a white, lamented card suspended from a chain on their belts, with a violet emblem smack in its centre. The card made them distinctive of any other person on the streets. PRiSM made their mark with that card and any unnatural power incident that occurred.

 

How had they arrived without anyone noticing? They didn't seem the sort of organisation that arrived somewhere without a flashy helicopter or something, so Kukuri could wrap her head around the thought of them simply strolling in.

 

Kukuri's grip on the megaphone tightened. “We have this under control.” If Ashinaka High School could deal with a gang attacking and destroying school ground, and threatening students, then the school's students could handle their own apparent powers.

 

The two PRiSM employees exchanged unreadable looks, but never spoke to each other. The taller of them adjusted his sunglasses. “Miss, we understand you're scared, but--”

 

“I'm scared, you're right. But I'm not helpless. This school's student body can get through anything we put our minds through, I'm sure of it. We've already stopped the explosions from happening, haven't we?”

 

The man's smile fell. “Miss, what's your name?”

 

Her name? “That's not important. Just know that we're fine here. I'm sure a lot of people need help after that green beam appeared, but we don't!”

 

“She's right!” From behind, Sumika ran over, her hand on Kukuri's shoulder. “It's hard, but everyone's managed to calm down. No one's hurt.” She smiled. “It's all thanks to Kukuri. So there's no need to worry.” She looked to the side, gesturing to Sakura, who stood near first year students. “Sakura's helping the others calm down.”

 

The girl in question jumped at being brought up, but nodded nonetheless. She turned to the other two girls, and then, although scared out of her wits, locked eye contact with PRiSM. “The thing is, after n 'incident' about two years ago, our school's ambivalent to the thought of complying with a group of strangers that come so suddenly.”

 

“UPI management is our job, ma'am. Our arrival to a place with high UPI activity isn't abnormal.”

 

“I understand that, I really do, but... none of us probably want to go with you.” She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for the worst. “I'm scared, we all are. And, personally, I'm scared for my friends and family at home, too. But going to some random building when I know I have a part to do here is out of the question. I have a responsibility to help the other students, and that goes for classmates towards their friends here and staff in general.”

 

The face a middle-aged, rose-eyed woman appeared. Like her employees, she wore a stiff-looking suit, but kept her glasses off, instead offering Kukuri a somewhat amused look. Her stare gave off a powerful light, like a king looking down on a rebellious civilian.

 

_A 'king'..._

 

***

 

“So I take hear you're disinterested in our assistance?”

 

Yukizome eyed her cautiously, slowly nodding. “That's right.”

 

PRiSM dominated Strain regulation, with Scepter 4 barely breathing as of late. As far as Japan was concerned, PRiSM became indispensable to the nation, and potentially the world. So for this simple school girl, with barely any protest from students behind her, to stand her ground under the impression that PRiSM's involvement wasn't necessary was _astonishing_.

 

Whatever, no, _whomever_ sparked such defensive spirit must have painted a very biased picture.

 

“Tell you what, Miss Yukizome. Instead of exchanging any excuses or justifications, we'll negotiate.”

 

“Negotiate?”

 

“Negotiating is an important life skill. Very vital.” Kameko tapped the pen on her coffee table. “My negotiation to you, the face of Ashinaka High School, is to not withdraw my unit from your school, but they will drastically lessen their involvement.”

 

Yukizome narrowed her eyes, and looked beyond Kameko, clearly at the two unwelcome employees on the school grounds. “How so?”

 

Kameko spun the pen in her hand. “When your school needs help, they will have us there. However, PRiSM will extend no hands unless prompted.”

 

“...”

 

“Seven minutes ago, a green beam erupted into the world.” Kameko craned her head to the massive windows of her room. “Like its own little radioactive atmosphere, and, for simplicity's sake, let's refer to that imaginary sphere as the 'creosphere', since it's creating so many changes. Do you really think you won't need help at some point? I'm being very generous, Yukizome. Especially for a school filled with high school students.”

 

The girl bit her lip, and turned to look at the students behind her. She had stiff shoulders, and her uncertain somehow reflected on the faces of students facing the screen. At this very moment, Kukuri Yukizome felt the same exact weight a King may feel for their Clansmen's well-being. The looming responsibility for their actions and how the King's own actions impacted them.

 

Soon, the girl turned back to Kameko. “Fine.”

 

Kameko blinked. “Are you sure?”

 

“I am. I made my decision. And I won't back down from it.”

 

All right then. “A deal's a deal, then. My PK-unit stays on the outer campus, and your school can deal with this however you choose. Nice doing speaking to you, Miss Yukizome.”

 

“Before you go, can I ask you something?” Kukuri lowered her voice significantly, nearly to a whisper. “Kameko Ryujin... are you... a King? Is PRiSM another Clan?”

 

Her caution towards PRiSM was definitely the product of someone else, most likely the Silver Clan, and now she was catching on to how things went in the world.

 

“I am the Sixth and Violet King of the Clan PRiSM, Kameko Ryujin.”

 

Yukizome's eyes widened, but she swallowed down the information nonetheless. “I see.”

 

With nothing more to add, Yukizome focued her attention on the students behind her. Instead of eavesdropping, Kameko addressed the duo she assigned there. Right now, she wanted them to keep tabs on the WL-Levels in Ashinaka's area. Nothing more. She didn't elaborate why nor for how long, and with that, dropped the call.

 

Almost as soon as she did, another screen popped up all on its own. On it, Hisui's bright expression faced Kameko. “I apologise for contacting you at an inopportune time. I understand your role just became much more demanding.”

 

“No, you called at a good time.”

 

Kameko pulled over a digital map, with several hundreds of dots spanning across the world signifying Strain activity. Thus far, the heaviest hit places consisted of Asia, North America, and Europe. Tapping her nails on the side table, Kameko focused more on the map than Hisui's appearance.

 

“It's a pain, but I know it'll eventually be necessary to spread our findings, PRiSM's especially, to other nations. We can't afford having the rest of the world live without the knowledge of basic principles. We'll have to integrate some sort of educational or informational system sooner or later. Like a global branch.”

 

“Of course,” Hisui agreed, “and that shall be simple to establish.”

 

'Simple'. The boy really had no grasp of the true depth of things. Considering his near-death experience against the Gold King, it didn't come off as surprising to Kameko.

 

“Luckily, organisation like that isn't what you called for. I already have an idea, though.” The eruption would prompt the other three Kings to act. Personally, as long as the Slate was kept in tact, <jungle>'s poor relation to other Clans weren't any of Kameko's concern, but if it compromised the Slate, then she'd be more than happy to intervene. She already appointed Yuko and the rest of the Procession Unit to <jungle>'s base to observe the Sate, but they were more than capable to defend it as well.

 

“To name a unit dedicated exclusively to the Dresden Slate's functions after the major discovery of the Procession of St. John. You certainly have a knack for names.” Hisui's praise sounded genuine enough, more like an impressed child than a man Kameko honestly took seriously. 'Yomito Gate is our only unblocked entrance as of now, with the Blue King making his move. We have plenty of U-rank Clansmen ready to defend the Slate. However, might I request your talented 'Emperor's assistance as well?”

 

“Shiki? As of now, he's more or less under the Colourless King's full authority. They established that a month ago. Besides, you really think they'll infiltrate your base?”

 

“The odds of them doing so aren't zero, Doctor Ryujin.”

 

“...true. And I have no qualms securing the Slate, but... You have unlimited life support now, so I don't see why you would bother adding in my and Fuyu's Clansmen as well.”

 

Hisui shook his head. “You're absolutely right. The odds of them defeating me are zero, however, Doctor Ryujin, please don't get me wrong. I've already enlisted Mr. Iwa's assistance as well. There is no need for two Kings to greet the Blue King, so I would merely like more Clansmen to assist us. It's a good way to raise morale in lower-ranking Clansmen.”

 

Hisui had a knack for waxing lyrical, Kameko had to give him that. “Instead of 'raising morale in lower-ranking Clansmen', you want to say 'I want the Blue King on edge for my greeting him, so instead I'll send those who cannot defeat him against him first,' right?”

 

The Green King went silent, but nodded. “Affirmative.”

 

“Furthermore, 'I'm aware that one of my J-rank's is not to be trusted. He is only someone who will inevitably 'betray' me. However, I am not worried about his decisions, and the Violet King clearly keeps tabs on anyone with more than one Aura, so there is no need for me to bring that up'.”

 

'Affirmative.”

 

Just barely, Kameko chuckled, pulling up another digital menu. “Give me a moment. I'll talk to her about it. Arriving to your Clan's only entrance. I can see how that may pose a bit of an issue.”

 

“Yes. I appreciate your assis--”

 

Disinterested, Kameko cut off the call, already on her way to contact Fuyu via intercom. This was something to discuss face to face, not via a call. All the girl had to do was nod her head and let what happened happen.

 

***

 

Barely five minutes after Fuyu's pain subsided, Doctor called her. Or, rather, summoned her. She didn't elaborate why they needed to 'have a chat', but Fuyu nonetheless obliged to meet her.

 

The meeting ended up being a 'request' for Shiki's help against the Blue King.

 

“Why?”

 

“I'm not entirely sure why Hisui specified his involvement, but Shiki'll have to do little more than just slow the Blue King down.” Doctor clicked a pen repeatedly, probably more fixated on it than she was on Fuyu. “Yuko's already there, so he won't be unsupported.”

 

That still didn't give Fuyu any motivation to agree to this. As much as she truly depended on Doctor, she didn't see why her own involvement was so necessary when she hadn't really done anything thus far. She cooperated with <jungle> and kept Shiki from doing anything reckless, that was it. There was no point dragging Shiki into something when the Slate had the Green King looming over it.

 

“I guess Hisui suspects Saruhiko Fushimi will pull something as well... that's a shame, he won't make it out alive if he tries to do something, that's one less subject to study. Although I guess I can see how effective it is to have three Auras jumbling in the body when under extreme stress...”

 

“Doctor, I don't--”

 

“Say, Fuyu.”

 

Doctor's tone changed significantly, taking on a more authoritative mood. Fuyu heard her shifting about and pressing buttons, but had hardly any idea what was going through the Violet King's mind.

 

“You're a King. You have to make a lot of decisions for things that disinterest you. Each King and their Clan are practically living microcosms for whatever they encompass, be it something like 'change' or 'destiny'.”

 

“And you feel PRiSM encompasses 'ambition', I know.”

 

“That's right. I value will power and drive, so I encompass 'ambition', and when 'ambition' is strong enough, it's practically the opposite of 'destiny'. There's the divide between the eternal and the ever-changing, destruction and order, destiny against ambition... We Kings cannot live without our counterparts, yet at the same time, we thrive without their interference. However... where does that leave you, the Colourless King with her single Clansmen?”

 

The question settles into Fuyu like a sinking boulder. She knew, as the Colourless King, she qualified as the 'wild card' among the seven Kings. The King before her was barely anything past a control freak of a fox, and the one before him led a peaceful life. Respectively, they could have represented 'control' and 'peace', and their abilities and motives affected all the Kings. Yet, compared to them, Fuyu kept to herself, Doctor, and Shiki, with no intention of interacting with the others. A month ago, she talked big about getting back at <jungle>, but that fire dimmed more and more since Christmas.

 

Instead of an answer, all Fuyu could do was think of how _Akina_ would react. She vividly heard the blue-eyed girl admonish Fuyu in her usual blunt, exasperated fashion.

 

“ _I'm busting my ass working for some washed up NEET and some guy playing make-believe with his identity, and you and Shiki are sitting around clinging to stuffed animals and moping?”_

 

That was exactly what Fuyu was doing, and she knew it. Not twenty minutes ago she joked around with Shiki about her own inaction, but now someone who _should_ have been standing next her succeeded in filling her thoughts. She was asking what Fuyu wanted to do, to say, and think, instead of feeling sorry for herself.

 

How long had it been since Fuyu heard Akina's voice? She could barely make it out in her head, she knew the tone Akina would use, but her voice barely scraped by. The thought of hearing her speak, and just being able to be near her left Fuyu feeling dizzy, and answering Doctor's question became tertiary to her.

 

Fuyu gripped the hem of her – Akina's jacket, and bit her lip.

 

“Shiki'll do it. I'll make sure he helps.”

 

The pen's clicking stopped. “Hmm... from the tone of your voice, is that all?”

 

Fuyu tensed, straightening up her back as much as possible. With a slow gulp, she swallowed back down the lump in her throat.

 

“Well, as I said earlier, ambition is my main focus.” The rustling of papers caught filled in silence. “I'm still busy with paperwork, so just make sure Shiki gets to Yomito Gate in a timely manner. I'll let Hisui know. You're free to go.”

 

For a moment, Fuyu stood in place, until her feet finally obeyed her and turned for the door. For all the years she lived in this building, she had its layout memorised, but she still kept in mind to walk slowly and carefully. Doctor's room was one of the top floors, and Fuyu's room was on the third floor, but, as of now, she had no motivation to go back to her room. The thought of it felt small and suffocating. Her best bet was the second floor's library.

 

The thought of using the lift didn't appeal to Fuyu either, so she kept a firm grasp on the staircase's railing. By the next floor, it occurred to her she should call Shiki already.

 

She pulled her PDA out, and decided to speed dial Shiki. Without fail, the boy answered instantly.

 

"Fuyu?"

 

"Shiki, I'm sorry, but..."  Fuyu's eyes trailed to the stairs.  "Go to Yomito Gate.  <jungle> wants your assistance."

 

As expected, she heard an uncomfortable noise from Shiki, but he made no protest.  "Okay."

 

"Shiki, I'm really sorry."

 

"I know."

 

Just like that, the call ended, leaving Fuyu in dead silence.

 

She walked down the steps slowly, hugging herself.

 

Suddenly, she overheard another set of footsteps walking up the stairs. Judging by the sound, they were heels. With Doctor upstairs working, and Yuko out with Procession Unit, the only person those heels could belong to was Hirasaka.

 

The woman walked past Fuyu wordlessly, aloof as ever. As much as Fuyu understood that Hirasaka's motivation consisted of the sum of money PRiSM provided her, she couldn't help but want to reach out to Hirsaka. She was a strong, intelligent woman, and despite her aloof nature, there was a conviction to her that Fuyu faintly sensed.

 

“Miss... Miss Hirasaka?”

 

Hirasaka's footsteps ceased, but the lump in Fuyu's throat, like cotton lodged in, prevented Fuyu from speaking, and Hirasaka continued to walk away.

 

_Don't blow it. Don't blow it. Recall that rising fire you felt back in Doctor's office... How would Akina get her to listen?_

 

“Douhan Hirasaka!”

 

The clack of Hirasaka's heels changed in quality, similar to if they were stepping on the next floor instead of stairs. “What?”

 

Anxiety swirled in Fuyu's head, but she made it this far.

 

“I have something for you to do.”

 

***

 

“Shiro! This thing is huge!”

 

Marvelling the interior of the airship, Neko scurried around the entirety of it, before finally setlling on looking out one of its many windows. Clouds filled her field of vision, and beneath her feet, she had a profound sense of just how high up they were.

 

Clouds zipped by at a decent rate, and this airship of Shiro's would get the White Rice Party to their destination in no time.

 

Shiro nodded. “Neko, keep an eye on things down below, okay?”

 

“Uh-huh!” Neko took that as an invitation to leave the airship's main area, and she ran past the other two to go to the airship's 'garden'. Despite the wintery conditions, its grass and flowers all remained vibrant and lively. Neko peered over the intricate railing, and below, she could easily make out the city.

 

_So high up!_

 

Delighted, Neko took extra care of staring down the world below them, her hair weaving and her earring jingle around in the subtle wind.

 

She wondered who they'd be able to see. Would it be that sparkly jerk? Or the scythe kid? Maybe even the snake-eyed girl? They were all possiblities, and Neko was ready to go toe to toe with any one of them. Even if their Kings showed up, especially the one that couldn't even get Neko's name right.

 

**Ah.**

 

Whenever that memory came back to Neko's thoughts, a shiver crawled up her spine. The name 'Miyabi Ameno' still triggered a foggy, fuzzy feeling in her head and chest. She didn't recognise that name, but those guys kept insisting on calling her that, and even _Shiro_ started to talk about it! He even suggested looking into why they called her that, why? She was Neko. She'd always been Neko, long before even meeting Shiro, she'd been Neko. What was so hard about accepting that? She was Neko, and presently Shiro's Neko. She wasn't this 'Miyabi Ameno' person. Not at all.

 

Moreso, she didn't want to know why she got called 'Miyabi Ameno'. The name activated thousands, no, billions, of red alarms in every fibre of her body. Ignorance was bliss. She didn't want anything to do with what caused 'Miyabi Ameno'.

 

Spaced out, Neko barely noticed how the air began to reflect the numbing fog filling up her body. Without notice, the fog stung her throat and lungs, while she did her best to focus on finding the Greens' gate instead of her own thoughts.

 

What managed to snap her out of it was the fact that she finally saw who she was looking for. That old priest guy, Snake-eyes, and a tall blonde woman stood in front of a gaping 'hole' in the road. A bit of a ways across from them, Boss Glasses and some other guy from the Blues walked side by side, completely unfazed by other <jungle> Clansmen trying to attack them.

 

Still ignoring the sting, Neko whipped her head around. “Shiro! I see them!”

 

Smiling, Shiro walked out to see for himself, but upon noticing the fog, his smile fell. “Neko, let's go back inside. How are you dealing with this? This is the same fog as back in Mihashira Tower...”

 

Neko shrugged. “I dunno! Guess I didn't notice!”

 

Staring at her, Shiro's frown deepened.

 

“Shiro?”

 

He shook his head. “...it's nothing. Let's get back inside.”

 

Not convinced it was nothing, Neko tilted her head. Of course, she did go back inside the airship, but now Shiro's frown concerned her. When she looked back at him, his expression was relaxed, but she was sure his frown earlier was far from relaxed.

 

“Shiro.” Interrupting Neko's thinking, Kuroh addressed the Silver King sternly. “Are we landing?”

 

“Yeah. The Schattenreich's already on it. It's been precalibrated to land near Yomito Gate since the get-go, I just wanted to get an idea of who we're up against.”

 

Although she listened to them talk, Neko's mind still drifted. Over the past month, keeping her mind unoccupied got harder and harder, and the Slate's 'awakening' or whatever didn't help her in the very least. In fact, it seemed to make it that much _harder_.

 

Irritated, Neko fussed up her hair, and figorously shook her head. She just wanted to clear her head of all this stupid junk.

 

“Neko, what're you doing?” Kuroh asked.

 

“Nothing! I'm not doing anything!”

 

“You're clearly --”

 

A roaring, almost unearthly sound cut Kuroh off. Tons of shorter noises followed it, and they irritated Neko so much she covered her ears.

 

“What's that noise?!”

 

With owlish eyes, Shiro looked outside. “It's the airship... that fog... it's eating at it?”

 

With no one to affirm Shiro's suspicion, the airship stuttered, and dipped at a steep angle. Outside the windows, scenery changed at an increasingly rapid pace.

 

Neko's hair bristled. “Kurosuke! Shiro! We're falling, and it's not my fault this time!”

 

Kuroh dragged the two of them near him, and now kept a strong hold on the both of them in the midst of the airship's fall. “I'm aware of that much!”

 

Shiro kept quiet, and a bright light emitted from him, wrapping around the entire White Rice Party. Finally, he smiled weakly. “I'm really close to giving up the whole airship shtick.”

 

The second the airship made contact with pavement, a roaring crash, and cracking road, grated against the airship.

 

This was one way to make an entrance.

 


	16. Kalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kalt" = "Cold".
> 
> I'm not even gonna go into why it took so long mental illnesses kicked my ass.
> 
> Hi. I am sick of looking of this chapter. Here you go.

A frenzy jumbled aroud Yomito Gate. Two <jungle> Clansmen and two PRiSM Clansmen pitted themselves against the Blue _King_ Reisi Munakata, covered only by Scepter 4's former lieutenant, Zenjo Goki. A thick, violet mist obstructed much of the area, creating an almost eerie atmosphere mixed in with the violent clashing of sabres and Auras erupting.

 

The Blue King had to keep himself under control, to not risk a Damocles Down sooner than one'd be needed. Four Clansmen weren't a challenge for him, so there was little to no reason to have anyone from HOMRA nor the White Rice Party to back him and Zenjo up. No, those two Clans had a very different role. HOMRA would back the White Rice Party up, slipping through the battle under a powerful veil of illusion conjured by Neko that slinked over all of the two Clans.

 

Shiro moved ahead, whilst Kuroh kept to Neko's side. She insisted she didn't need covering, but the vassal wouldn't budge, so she reluctantly allowed his own insistence. Neko couldn't afford to lose her concentration right now. Both the Silver and Red Clans depended entirely on her powers to keep them out of sight long enough to get past <jungle> and PRiSM. Between the White Rice Party, a tension melded into them, and from how she moved, Kuroh knew Neko had an especially thick layer of tension wrapped around her. She moved briskly, and never glanced behind her, instead, her eyes darted left to right, focusing on HOMRA, Shiro, and Kuroh all at once.

 

Around the three, HOMRA moved quickly, mindful of Neko's range, but nonetheless in a hurry. The main three who paid close mind to Neko's distance included Kusanagi, Anna, and Kamamoto, all within speaking distance if need be.

 

Fierce winds cut between them, and the mist stung Kuroh's lungs. He couldn't imagine how Neko felt, but she voiced no complaint. Kuroh understood that Shiro couldn't afford to use his powers right now, however, he had no fondness for their situation. Wrapping his head around how HOMRA seemed unaffected by the mist seemed impossible to wrap his mind around.

 

Nonetheless, he decided to not concern himself with their impressive 'resistance', or rather their uncanny ability to ignore the mist, and kept moving forward, closely by Neko and Shiro's side.

 

***

 

“ _It may be that he will share my destiny and have to die.”_

 

The abrupt words of the Blues' King resonated in Yata's mind.

 

“ _If that happens, I'm sorry. I apologise in advance.”_

 

The Blues' King _ordered_ Fushimi to ditch their Clan and infiltrate the Greens, knowing that it could get Fushimi killed. His King sent him out on a dangerous mission knowing that it could get him killed. That fact kept revolving in Yata's head like a broken record.

 

The Blue King reasons for the order all went back to that spiel about order Scepter 4 clung to so much, and then the minute he finished, he predicted that the one way for Fushimi to avoid endangering himself would be by actually joining <jungle>.

 

“ _Do you think he would do that?”_

 

Yata gripped the red marble in his fist. Skating, he looked dead ahead, immersing himself in the rush of HOMRA Clansmen advancing forward. Using the airship's 'landing' to their advantage, HOMRA moved under the veil of a massive illusion cast by Neko to keep them hidden. They'd go unseen by <jungle>'s lackeys up here, and have no problem beating the remaining Clansmen into dust.

 

The adrenaline coursing through Yata let him ignore the mist's harsh effects. Prolonged exposure could potentially kill someone, especially a normal person, but at the speed Yata skated, he had no worries over the mist. He, just barely, saw the conflict between Munakata and <jungle>'s goon with a couple of PRiSM's own Clansmen, including the tall woman and dark-skinned girl. The latter two didn't seem entirely invested in the battle, only providing the bare minimum of help to that priest guy.

 

The tall woman was especially active, whipping her fan around and stirring powerful winds in Munakata's direction. They did little to deter him, but nonetheless forced him to take on a more defensive role. Meanwhile, the dark-skinned girl remained rather sedentary, leaning against a sheathed sword – _sabre_. Yata's eyes, observant as they were, recognised the sabre's shape and sheath immediately. She _shouldn't_ have had those. It wasn't any of Yata's business, but seeing her messing around with one of the Blues' own weapons rubbed him the wrong way.

 

“Yata, don't get sidetracked.”

 

Kusanagi's smooth voice caught his attention, peeling his eyes away from the girl.

 

“Yeah.” Nodding, Yata forcefully kicked his foot against pavement, propelling himself forward.

 

***

 

'Something' stirred in the air, enough to catch Yuko's attention. Fending off a King is one thing, but the thought of something she couldn't see being along the horizon fell ill with her.

 

She looked to Akina. The stoic girl kept her eyes ahead of her, looking through anyone, as if she wasn't really _here_. She didn't see  <jungle>, nor PRiSM's goal in her sights, let alone sense anything off. Yuko knew something _much_ closer to her very being reflected in her dark blue eyes. Not an once of her felt any obligation towards Tenkei.

 

Yuko knew Akina as a reserved, mature person. Always at Fuyu and Shiki's side, always a trusted Clansman of Kameko's. The twins adored her, and Yuko found herself fretting over her like an overbearing sister or aunt.

 

<jungle> gave her none of that warmth. Yuko could see it in the way she held herself up. She heard of Tenkei's claims that <jungle> had their own brand of closeness between J-ranks, but Akina quickly became the exception, intentionally or otherwise. Yuko doubted that the Boy Wonder had the influence to add onto that, but as for Mishakuji and Hisui...

 

Yuko could take a guess, but those two didn't matter to her in the long-run. Their grandiose outlooks on this whole plan left them far less complicated than people made them out to be. _Nothing_ seemed particularly outstanding about them to Yuko. Both of them were _beasts_. That was the beginning and end of it. Just bird with clipped wings _pretending_ it had fangs and the pet hell hound that bit down on anything that moved.

 

Yuko scoffed to herself. They were beasts, but she couldn't say she looked down on them.

 

She looked at Tenkei more with pity than anything. It wasn't out of any solicitous feeling towards him than it was nostalgia. She remember Iwafune Tenkei as Seigo Otori, the young PRiSM Clansman that met with Yuko when she was just eleven, green to her abilities as a Strain. He'd been a kind, good-natured man, with bright eyes and wise words.

 

Now, he was nothing short but the shell of a man whose name once meant something.

 

 _He_ was a truly pathetic man that Yuko couldn't see herself respecting. She only assisted him as part of Kameko's orders. When she thought of it that way, the strange atmosphere meant nothing to her.

 

One of <jungle>'s lower class made a move for Munakata. At his side, Zenjo moved to react. With a flick of her wrist, Yuko brought forth fierce winds, like those of a squall. Sturdy as ever, it didn't do much against Zenjo, but it deterred him long enough to force Munakata to use his own powers to deflect the attack. The smooth, bright blue shield succeeded in protecting its user, but combined with the mist's acidic properties, the state of his Sword of Damocles left much to be desired. He didn't _want_ to use more of his power than necessary. Especially against a few normal Clansmen.

 

In a way, it came off as comical – four major Clansmen and dozens miscellaneous Greens decided to go against a King. It would have made more sense to dump this sort of thing onto Mishakuji's shoulders, but the guy clung too tightly to the nostalgia of clashing against a former fellow Clansman of Ichigen Miwa.

 

Yuko lowered her hand, the winds around her lessening just a bit. In the midst of pandemonium, she met Akina’s eyes, and felt a nostalgic ripple between them.  
  
Akina pushed windblown bangs behind her left ear. Her disheveled appearance clashed with that gaudy-looking sabre, and the view of her holding it almost seemed more ridiculous than impressive.  
  
“You look like you want something.”  
  
Dispelling mist between them, Yuko turned away from Akina. She watched the curves of the mist, inconsistent and much too large.  
  
“I have a hunch.”  
  
Akina put her hand on her hip, still looking the opposite direction. Her snake-like eyes focused completely on Munakata. She twirled the sabre on its tip, treating the gaudy thing more like a toy than a weapon. Considering her lack of experience with swords, she likely viewed it as such. Green sparks speckled across it, discordant against the sabre’s natural affinity for Scepter 4. Liquid dripped from the hilt to the tip, violet in colour. Soon, both Auras wore down the concrete.  
  
Akina dug the sabre into the pavement. “I know what you’re thinking.”  
  
“That’s good to hear.” Yuko smiled, fanning herself. “I can always count on you to catch on.”  
  
Wind cut upward, breaking the mist go reveal Shiki nimbly maneuvering around Munakata. With a wave of her finger, Yuki made the window draw him away from his skirmish.  
  
Shiki took the hint, and withdrew immediately. As quick as he was to react, he still had a puzzled, tired expression, much different from his concentrated posture. His alertness somehow brought a sense of pride to Yuko.  
  
“Shiki, if you stay over they, you’ll get caught in an eye wall of hurt.” Next to Yuko was the ‘eye of the storm’, anywhere else was a place bound for some pain. Shiki looked back, obviously in Iwafune’s direction.  
  
“Don’t worry about him.” Akina rested her chin on top of the sabre’s hilt. Violet water pooled under her feet - a nonchalant reminder that the girl had an affinity for PRiSM.  
  
Yuko picks up the hem of her dress, making sure the water doesn’t ruin it. “How much do you plan on accumulating,Aki?”  
  
“More than enough.”  
  
“You’re still so excessive.” When she was younger, Akina had a 'habit’ of overusing the Aura. She claimed it was for practise, but even now, Yuko was sure she did it out of boredom.  
Lightning zapped in the puddle, making streaks of water spread out further. Spinning her fan around, Yuko allowed a current of wind to build up. It carried droplets of water with it, rapidly condensing in speed.  
  
Beside Yuko, Akina shot bolts out into the air, violently snaking its way through the air. Build up from the hilt of her sword exploded, setting of a chain reaction of charge.  
  
The lightning and winds bent awkwardly, as if wrapping around things.  
Then, a change. Energy surged through air, and electricity spiked higher than before thanks to the wind. The surroundings distorted, twisted around, and popped out of existence. Left in its wake, the sound of pained screaming mixed into the bustling of the wind.  
  
In the end, HOMRA and the Silver Clan revealed themselves. Sturdier ones managed to withstand the shocks enough to stay standing. Others fell to their knees, struggling to pull themselves together.  
  
Ahead, Yuko could see the Silvers’ Strain, her hair in disarray. Miyabi Ameno. The illusion could have only been her doing, her powers weren’t something to be underestimated, for sure.  Without anyone saying a word, Shiki made his move.  The Silver Clan never stopped moving, so he followed, leaving Yuko and Akina to deal with HOMRA.

_Good, Shiki was the best candidate anyway._

  
Yuko cooled the ferocity of her winds, now just using them to clear her view of the two Clans. If they intended to ambush them, they’d almost succeeded, but with Ameno still with them, things could still get messy.  
  
She lifted her fan into the air, spinning it, and winds finally honed in on HOMRA's three finest.

Their skater stood no chance. His skateboard only helped Yuko's wind send him off in a less troublesome direction. On the other hand, HOMRA's No. 2 succeeded in moving fast enough to move to gather Anna's attention.

She saw the Red Sword of Damocles waver into sight. A thin, red barrier encased her and Kusanagi, uplifting the wind over and around them.

Yuko hummed to herself, looking up int the skyShe couldn't find anything special about it. The red to it seemed too dull to her. Compared to the late Red King's, it wasn't dull at all, instead in its full glory. And yet, that just didn't amount to much. The young Red King held the Red Aura's fate – to malfunction before it could do anything worth noting. It wouldn't be long until it surpassed the wear and tear Munakata's own Sword presented.

Red and Blue couldn't hold a candle to the luminescent light emanating from the Violet King's Sword. Perfect, graceful, with a mysterious, calming glow to it. Nothing like the stiff chaos and order clinging to Red and Blue.

 

***

 

The attack spooked Anna, but her mind worked on autopilot. Her powers, worked on autopilot. The second Yuko's winds dispersed, she eliminated the barrier, allowing Izumo to make the next move. The flicker of his lighter was all the prompt Anna needed, and she eliminated the barrier, with dozens of Izumo's fireballs spinning straight for the PRiSM Clansman.

 

Seamlessly, Yuko's powers deflected any fire near her to burn everything in the alley behind her. Her move was powerful, but graceful, in a way befitting of her tall, toned figure.

 

The Strain wagged her fan, smiling at Anna. “I get you're a King and all, Miss Kushina, but...” She gestured to the many burns spread through the alley. “You're the Red King, mind you. Better disciplined and more talented than the lion or not, you're not an experienced one, right? You wouldn't want to misjudge yourself and burn all your Clansmen, would you? Or what if a twelve year old's Sword of Damocles isn't made for taking up a grown King's toll? Does that not matter to you? Rather, are you feeling vengeful?”

 

“No. It's your Clan harming everyone,” Anna started, “I'll make sure to end it.”

 

Yuko nodded attentively. “Right, right. End what they started, but, Anna, for one, that's not what I'm talking about.” She ran a hand through her hair, and traced the scorch marks on one of the buildings. “What if, on the off chance, I told you that two of HOMRA's founders met their demise because of less random events than some homicidal King's 'sudden' rampage?”

 

Anna tensed. The woman was baiting her, that much was obvious. Yet, underneath that honeyed voice, she could detect the slightest bit of truth. An underlying secret.

 

No. She wouldn't let this woman bait her into something. “I'm not--”

 

“The Green King. He planted the idea of King domination in the Colourless King's head. The mask was a belonging of <jungle>'s, and he took advantage of the identity-deprived fox's mental state for his own gain. The downfall of HOMRA. All just to change things up. To get your precious clairvoyance under his grasp.”

 

The Aura surrounding Anna faltered.

 

Yuko moved dramatically, gracefully. “All just to get HOMRA's princess. Your powers were worth the lives of two of your closest friends. Although, you've been aware of that for a while, I take it? Surely the clairvoyant who already lost her own mother and father saw that the seventh of December's circumstances were no different?” She tilted her head. “Or was the death pinned on the Colourless King and Mikoto soley? The power hungry fox. The lion blinded by revenge. The downfall of each other.”

 

Without Anna's notice, Yuko showed up right in front of her, kneeling to her height. When Anna saw, she jumped back, unable to break eye contact, not with the person claiming that her involvement in Tatara and Mikoto's deaths was deeper than she understood. The lump in her throat was controlled, but it grew nonetheless. Anna swallowed what she could of it to keep her heart at a normal rate.

 

“Why would you... expose your own King?”

 

“You've got it wrong.” Yuko shook head, and waved her hand in a fluid motion, guiding leftover fire to circle her wrist like a bracelet, and soon dismissing it. Her control over the fire was flawless, and she made it seem more suitable for a dance of sorts than battle. Plus, when she played with the fire, the heat from it was less than what it should have been. There was a pleasant breeze that followed it instead. “That feral man... has nothing to do with me.”

 

The fire that hurled towards her never touched her. Instead, it sharply cut upwards, and dissolved into tiny, harmless sparks. It looked less like a failed attack and more like a celebrity's special effects, complete with the woman's smug smile and the way she twirled her fan around.

 

“What a heartfelt attempt,” she mused.

 

She suddenly tensed, and quickly moved back, bracing herself for whatever caught her attention. Fierce, snake-like flames weaved through the air. Less than lucky <jungle> Clansmen struck by the onslaught endured some severe burns, enough to make them back off completely and just baby their burns.

 

Yuko fanned herself, watching Anna's every move. “My, my... As in HOMRA's No. 2? Those fiery snakes are his trademark, I wonder?”

 

A light-hearted laugh started from behind Anna, and a firm hand pat her head. She could smell cigar smoke, and looking up, saw the warm brown eyes behind cool sunglasses smile down at her. “Sorry, Anna, I was almost late, huh?”

 

Anna smiled. “Izumo, thank you.”

 

“Don't mention it, now then.” Izumo flicked his lighter on, sizing up Yuko with a confident look on his face. “You're the one who managed to do this to my kids, right?”

 

Yuko laughed. “That's right.”

 

The two blonds wore empty, shallow smiles, and the air between the two quickly chilled, ice crystals flurrying about.

 

“What a cruel woman you are.”

 

“What an unattractive man you are.”

 

Izumo's smiled dropped. He turned his attention to the HOMRA Clansmen sprawled about, all sporting cuts and bruising of some kind. Anna noticed that he was noticeably troubled, and soon lowered her head.

 

“I tried to keep them safe, but got out of control.” Just how Yuko predicted.

 

The lighter clicked again. “Can't help it,” Izumo said, “you're not really getting formal training on the whole King deal.”

 

Ignoring their exchange, Yuko covered her nose. “The scent of smoke and ash is disgusting. Yet you reek of it.”

 

Fiery snakes skirted across the ground, staying as low as possible until they were only feet away from Yuko. At that point, they spiked upwards, leaving the woman little room to maneuvar without burning herself up in the process. The pillars of fire were already high as it is, but with a snap, Izumo willed the flames higher. At the top, they entwined into a speare-like shape, inverting down to strike. The thought of what so much fire could do to one person was gruesome, and Anna had to brace herself for what was to come.

 

Unconsciously, she'd closed her eyes, so all she could hear was the crackle and roar of fire. Yet, that was all she heard. By now, she was sure she'd hear Yuko's reaction to being severely burnt, but there was nothing resembling that. Only the fire's movement. Slowly, Anna opened her eyes.

 

She saw not a person on fire, and the fire shaped into a large lotus flower that soon erupted towards the sky, and hurtled towards herself and Kusanagi. Instinctively, Anna formed a translucent, red barrier that surrounded herself and everyone behind her, and the opposing fire broke away to nearby buildings and cars.

 

Unharmed, Yuko waved her fan about in a dance-like manner. As she moved, it was noticeable that the very bottom of her trailing dress was burnt considerably, but from what Anna could tell, none of the woman's skin bared any burns. The remnants of fire near her slowly disappeared, and she played with them until then.

 

Watching the fire's movements, Anna found the way they swayed odd and unnatural. The more Yuko messed around with specific clusters, the more they seemed to gradually dissipate, as if being sucked away or suffocated. To top it off, a breeze always followed, even though the air should've been still today.

 

“...wind.”

 

“Anna, what was that?” Kusanagi asked.

 

Anna kept watch of the woman, who paid the two no mind. “She's using her wind to suffocate the fire when it's close to her.”

 

With a troubled sigh, Kusanagi nodded. He muttered to himself how that made things more difficult. He added the fact that it was more likely the woman manipulated the air. So one minute they could be experiencing a pleasant, spring-esque breeze, and the next, stuck in a typhoon. With a click of his lighter, Kusanagi smiled wryly. “What a nuisance.”

 

More snakes whizzed through, and Yuko finally paid attention to them after messing around with the fire off on her own. With a flick of the wrist, the fire broke off into different directions.

 

“You guys may dominate a destructive power, but it's useless against a young, gorgeous woman such as myself who's constantly in her _own_ domain.”

 

The air around her spun into a light wind, but the farther away things were from her, the stronger the wind, to the point where cars shook.

 

“In any case...” Abruptly, Yuko lessened the wind. Her smile changed, no longer focused on Anna. It seemed a smile of pride. In _someone_.

 

“My help here isn't needed anymore.”

 

A second. A split second. It took a split second for Anna to feel the ripple of someone's presence behind her. She heard heavy boots, and the very distinct click of something metallic. Out of her peripheral vision, she could make out the sheen of a sabre.

 

Before she had any time to make sense of her situation, a heavy grip yanked her out of the way. She saw Izumo's face with gritted teeth. He didn't hold her to his chest protectively, instead forcibly keeping her at a distance with a grip that tightened so much she felt it might shatter her shoulders. His clothing, usually neat and clean, now had a slowly growing red colour to it that deeply contrasted the white.

 

“Izu...mo?”

 

Anna eyes widened involuntarily. Her brain couldn't register what happened just yet. It just knew something was wrong. They trailed up Izumo's tall build, finally making out the long, dark plum hair and dark blue eyes of the person that'd snuck behind her. In her hand, she gripped a sabre that extended far beyond where it should have.

 

With a powerful flick of the blade, most of the blood on it splattered across the pavement. She lowered the sabre, but did not sheathe it, and looked on as Kusanagi was forced to clutch at his stomach and hunch over, as if that would reduce any of the pain of the injury.

 

“Izumo!” Without thinking, Anna moved from her place, running to Izumo's side and doing her best to support him. Although the man held himself up rather well given his condition, he was still heavy, especially to someone like Anna. She wasn't physically strong. She never had been, and something as simple as trying to help support someone's own weight was a challenge for her. Her arms felt nearly the full brunt of his weight, and her shaking knees felt ready to shatter beneath her. Still, to the best of her ability, she ignored it, able to at least help Izumo raise his head.

 

“Well, this certainly is rather embarrassing."  Through a grunt, Izumo spoke lightly, but his tone was strained. Not looking at Anna, his free hand gently stroke her head. “Anna, I won't apologise for keeping you safe, but I'm sorry you had to see me in such a sorry state so soon.”

 

Why was he apologising for anything? He saved her life, again. That sheltering was something Anna had long been used to, for a long, long time she knew the protection of HOMRA. The way their protection hurt and saved others for her sake. How, even now, with her as the Red King, she still needed that sheltering, even though she constantly told herself it was her turn to protect those she cared for.

 

But that woman, Yuko, she was right. Even if she had better control over it than Mikoto had, Anna's power was still that of the Red King. Destructive, ferocious, wild, in need of constant reigning over. If she ever lost her temper or focus, the results could be catastrophic. If she took for granted her Sword of Damocles newly formed condition, then countless lives would be endangered. The red flame in her was comforting and warming, yes, but at the same time, she knew it constantly churned and twisted inside her, burning so deeply she couldn't even breathe at times. Even now, she could feel it. That dizzying heat, like fog and steam swirling in her head.

 

The gentle stroking of her head stopped, and Izumo silently said her name. Impulsively, Anna's gaze was captured by the blood seeping from his wound, poorly covered by his blood-covered hand. Izumo spoke to her more firmly, and she slowly managed to face him through blurred, watery vision.

 

“Don't lose your cool.”

 

Anna blinked rapidly, and wiped at her eyes, nodding with a short, quiet sniff. “I won't.” She removed her shawl, applying it to Izumo's wound in hopes that it'd minimise the bleeding. Concentrating on his wound, she made no second attempt at stopping her tears. “...I'm sorry.”

 

Izumo laughed airly. “There's no need for that.” He trembled in the middle of his laughter, hunching over more while coughing. Finally, he settled down and raised his head. “Actually... I feel sorrier for that young lady there.”

 

Both Anna and Akina stared curiously.

 

“Using a Blue's sabre... in attempts to kill the Red King...” He forced himself to straighten up just a bit. “Isn't that too obviously an imitation of Mikoto's death? What's up with? Some poetic joke?”

 

Akina narrowed her eyes, snake-like and watchful, as if questioning Izumo's way of addressing this.

 

Izumo gave an airy laugh. “Aha... you're shameless about acting like a child. But at least you're not throwing a fit over injuring _me_ instead. I wasn't even facing you.”

 

“As someone who experienced the deaths of his friends without ever seeing them, I feel as if an injury from behind is fitting for the likes of you.”

 

Izumo didn't respond, only smiling weakly at Anna. He said something, shaking his head, but she didn't catch it. She glanced at the two Strains across from them, both now speaking to each other with indifferent expressions in quiet, inaudible voices.

 

“Kill shot! Kill shot!” Green feathers fell onto Anna, and Kotosaka flapped his way to Akina, settling onto her shoulder. Disgruntled, it screeched. “Red King! Red King!”

 

Akina tapped the sabre to the ground, speaking quietly to the bird. Just a few feet ahead, Yuko waited for her to walk past her before following.

 

On Akina's shoulder, Kotosaka looked directly at Anna, his eyes glowing a bright, piercing green.

 

“Nagare Hisui.” Under her breath, Anna said his name stiffly. Deep within her heart, she wanted to follow and confront them, but she knew better. She kept herself at Izumo's side, and only watched the three depart.

 

“Where do you guys think you're going?” Stumbling to his feet, Misaki wiped the blood from his mouth off. He breathed heavily, and the scrapes and cuts on him were nothing to sniff at. Kamamoto gripped at the hem of his jacket in an attempt to stop Yata from going anywhere, but ended up being dragged along.

 

Trying to keep Izumo's wound covered, Anna studied Misaki carefully. “Wait.” The boy must not have heard her, occupied with his yelling and arguing with Kamamoto over continuing this any further. Meanwhile, Akina and Yuko had stopped, but only Yuko looked back at them, her expression hidden behind her fan.

 

“Let go already!” Yata snapped. He gripped Kamamoto's hood and forcefully pulled him away. “You...! You just wanna sit and watch those two walk away after what they did to Kusanagi?!”

 

“Of course not! But, in your state, you're no match for two! Look at how much just getting blown away injured you!”

 

Misaki pointed at Anna and Kusanagi. “This isn't anything compared to Kusanagi!”

 

Kamamoto nodded firmly. “Yeah, that's right. What do you plan on doing to the person that can do to him?”

 

“Whatever I can!”

 

Anna took in a deep breath. “Misaki, wait.”

 

Misaki had been out of it when Kusanagi appeared. He had no idea how the man got so badly injured, but he was under the complete impression that it happened in an honest to God battle, and not because Kusanagi shielded her from the enemy's attack. In the end, they weren't entirely aware of Akina's own capabilities, just that she was _agile,_ and _driven_. Driven by what, Anna didn't know, but she knew that being driven was all it took to make someone dangerous.

 

Misaki was setting himself up as a guinea pig for whatever she could do to a person. And, again, he hadn't heard Anna. He stubbornly flipped his skateboard back into place, his Aura glowing fully as usual. He tensed, prepped to propel forward.

 

“ _Misaki!”_

 

Anna's yell cut through the air. She put every inch of herself into it. Ahead of her, Misaki stumbled off his skateboard, and his look was of disbelief. “Anna?”

 

The young King took a deep breath, steeled herself. Her hands tightened on Izumo's sleeve without notice.

 

“Don't go after them, Misaki.”

 

“But--”

 

“ _Misaki.”_ Anna's sharp stare met Misaki's hazel eyes, unwavering. “Now, Izumo needs our help.” She adjusted her shawl when it seemed like too blood caked onto one side. “Leave them be. Please.” Her eyes traveled to the concrete, as if intentionally avoiding Izumo. She knew. That he was still conscious, and minimising his talking helped him conserve energy, but still. That silence worried her. She didn't want to look at him and see nothing. Let alone say his name and hear nothing.

 

They were wasting time. Arguing about what to do or not to do helped no one.

 

“Misaki, you already got instructions on what to do. Stay on task.”

 

His reaction twisted her heart, twisted her entire chest. Misaki's shoulders slumped. She expected them to stiffen, but they slumped. The energy in his hazel eyes dimmed tenfold into disbelief and nothing past that.

 

“Anna, what...”

 

“Please, Misaki. The others are depending on you. Not just HOMRA, but Scepter 4 too. You have someone to help. One of theirs. You can't let them down. That's my order.”

 

Misaki's eyes darted between Anna and the destination ahead of him. Anxiety fueled his movements, his skateboard motionless between them. What Anna told him went against every ideal Misaki held in HOMRA, every principle. She understood that, but she stuck to it.

 

She locked eyes with him, prepared herself to say more, but Rikio finally got up the nerve to speak up.

 

“Yata, she's right.”

 

His calm tone set him off. He shirked Rikio away from him. Yelling. Not a single word her said ridiculed Anna's decision. It all related to him in the least selfish away imagineable. He wasn't angry. That twisted up face wasn't one of anger.

 

It was fear. If that seemed too strong a word, worry worked just as well. Fear and worry clouded his eyes as much as dark, slow-rolling grey clouds darkened the wintry blue sky. He was expected to uphold expectations that pushed him the direction opposite of his instincts – to stick with his King and help an injured Clansman – an injured friend, and go after the one responsible.

 

“Third time's the charm, Anna.”

 

In Anna's hold, Izumo spoke slowly, deliberately, holding the shawl over his wound. From the angle, Anna could barely see his face, but his voice was more than enough to go by. Patient, somehow still good-humoured.

 

It kept Anna alert.

 

“Misaki, go help them.”

 

Misaki's conflict seemed to wash away as quickly as it came. Anna had no idea how she looked at him, but it clearly struck a cord. He looked away, hesitantly turning to Rikio, who just nodded, patting his shoulder with a slight push.

 

HOMRA's vanguard put heavy foots on his skateboard, and shot himself away on Anna's orders.

 

***

 

Anna looked smaller than ever, balling up intensity and despair into her frame, with smoldering fires that rumbled under her skin. Kusanagi's build only worsened the effect, but his smooth voice still managed to soothe Anna in a way Kamamoto thought best to leave to not eavesdrop on.

 

Instead, he focused on the the women watching her unblinkingly. Akina kept a loose, noncommittal grip on the sabre. She stood up straight, uncomfortably straight. Her eyes wide enough to be noticeable, and a mixture of emotions he deemed foreign to her just ten seconds ago.

 

Worse was the taller woman's. Her lively smile nowhere to be found, not even in the form of smug triumph. There was nothing. She hid her mouth behind her round, yellow fan, leaving only smooth eyes in sight. The smooth violet colour to them were only disrupted in her left, clashing against scleral scarring. That was the one sending him a message. That she and Akina had no intentions of bothering with them. It was far from reassuring. Her eyes were very clear about that.

 

“You've been taken care of,” they said.

 

Kamamoto shuddered, forcibly gulping down the saliva that accumulated in his mouth. He didn't want. to turn his back on the two women. Every inch in his body screamed at him not to, that blonde's gaze left no room for doubt. That they wouldn't bother with him, Kusanagi nor Anna. Slowly, he moved to try and ease Anna. She was a smart girl, she knew better than to do anything for someone so badly injured.

 

But she was still a kid. Not 'just' a kid, but she was a kid. She endured the death of HOMRA's two core Clansmen, and now the last of its founders bled out like someone out of a horror movie. Kamamoto wouldn't claim to know anything Anna felt, but he could guess that the weight of a life hanging her head a s

 

Ahead of him, behind Anna, he saw that unnatural violent fog obscure Iwafune's lone struggle against Munakata. He couldn't hear anything, but, then again, the scene in front of him likely deafened his senses to anything other than Anna and Kusanagi. A stream of rain fell, gentle and icy at first, but soon it showered down, rapid and stinging. Too fast and ramphant for anyone to shield themselves from it.

 

He crouched next to Anna to help prop Izumo up, and wordlessly removed his sweatshirt. Between its size and thickness, it covered Anna up without issue, as if it would make a difference when the rain long since soaked her to the bone.

 


	17. Konflikt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is 15 pages goodnight.
> 
> I will tweak this later.

 

What the _hell_ was he doing?

 

HOMRA's burning red, Scepter 4's systematic blue, and the little amount of <jungle>'s green all abandoned Fushimi.

 

Right now, against Sukuna, Fushimi didn't stand a chance. He basically signed a potential death wish the second he looked the Green King 'in the eye' and allowed Munakata to pass into <jungle>'s domain, and now the Green King's runt of a Clansman finally got the fight he wanted. He was fast, agile, and surprisingly dynamic. He utilised his scythe with expert precision and with every intent to shed Fushimi's blood all over te ground, all with a cocky smile on his face.

 

Compared to that, Fushimi faced a minor setback.

 

No matter how much he concentrated, there wasn't a single Aura obeying him. Red, blue, green, none of them would manifest. Fushimi's daggers were the only thing he could depend on to defend himself against Sukuna's advances. With the kid's ridiculous speed and reach with the scythe, trying to fight him was out of the question, and the knifes didn't do much except narrowly protect Fushimi from the curved blade.

 

“Not so tough now, huh?” Sukuna ceased his rapid-fire attacks just to gloat, because he could afford to. “There's no save point to go to that can save you.”

 

The little fuck kept treating this like a game. He wouldn't shut up. Save points didn't fucking exist. Someone can't just hold off on an issue by going to a save point, reloading an old file, and doing it over again. They had to just get off their ass and do what had to be done, no matter how irritating or futile it seemed.

 

In his irritation, Fushimi aimed another dagger at him, but, instead, the boy's scythe hit the dagger right at him, digging into the meat of his leg without any problems. The unexpected sensation was hot, and the small dagger managed to shoot pain through the entirety of his leg.

 

Biting back pain, Fushimi still internalised into himself. It wasn't like he got much out of this. The hazard pay sucked ass, and not he was a marked man by <jungle>'s elite.

 

Why the hell did he agree to this?

 

In the midst of his thinking, he overheard something. A very familiar sound. Like some idiot's yelling.

 

From the looks of it, Sukuna heard the yelling as well. He hesitated in the middle of almost striking down on Fushimi with the full brunt of his scythe, looking off into the distance with narrow, light green eyes.

 

“Hmph.” He flipped the blade to the ground, forcefully ripping it up, until the ground beneath Fushimi crumbled up into tons of shards, now fueled by Sukuna's lightning, so much so that it pushed Fushimi back and straight through the wall behind him. He hit the wall clear on the other side of this different area, yet still managed to land with some dignity, instead of flat on his face.

 

Not that landing on his hands and knees would help defend him against the brat with a scythe.

 

Sukuna came running in with the worst grin on his face, and the most that kept Fushimi from getting injured was one last dagger he used to try and keep the scythe's blade away from him.

 

Bad move. Very bad move. It pissed Fushimi off that he didn't realise what he'd just done until after seeing the glowing blade right against his metal dagger. The electric current instantly coursed through the dagger and right into the Fushimi, once again forcing him back against a wall.

 

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Sukuna gloated, “to be honest, I can't take credit for that technique, but it's not like Akina's gonna complain if I rip off from her.”

 

Sukuna seemed unnaturally mellow, quietly and smugly staring at Fushimi.

 

A second later, the scythe barely scrapes Fushimi throat.

 

“This is what you get for cheating your way up.” He pulled the scythe back, exaggeratedly high. “We wouldn't have had any use for someone who doesn't know how to place in a party anyway.”

 

The scythe looked as if it swung down in slow motion. No doubt, Sukuna was swinging it as hard and fast as he physically could, but, to Fushimi, time slowed. One second, a bright green filled his vision, the next, red. Red, fiery flames that flourished between Fushimi and Sukuna with intense, almost intolerable heat. Mixed with the crackling of the fire was same yelling from earlier, and now the rapid spinning of skateboard wheels.

 

When Sukuna turned to defend himself against the newcomer, the bottom of Yata's skateboard greeted him, somehow perfectly still as it struggled against the scythe's staff. As usual, Yata had a feral, aggressive look at his face, and in his hands gripped a long, metal pole for another weapon. When the scythe finally pushed him back, Yata landed on his skateboard with no problem.

 

Unbothered, Sukuna laughed. “Switching players?” He immediately returned to a charging stature. “Fine by me!”

 

The pole in Yata's hand spun with fire, and extended out, breaking off Sukuna's rhythm and making him slip to the side, the trajectory of his attack totally off and useless. The explosion of smoke it caused was just what Yata needed, apparently. Instead of going in for an attack against Sukuna, Yata switched gears, roughly picking Fushimi up and skating away, well-aware that Sukuna would soon be on their asses.

 

“Hey, you alive?!”

 

What a stupid question. “You're too loud.”

 

The criticism failed to piss Yata off. “Shut up! Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?”

 

Fushimi responded in a detached tone. “Dumbass, I can't talk about top secret missions.”

 

The honest answer ended up being what set Yata off. “If you don't tell me this sorta shit then of course I'm not gonna understand! I would've branded you a total fucking traitor if you died without telling me just then, do you get that?! You're not much smarter yourself!”

 

'Branded' him a traitor? The wording threw Fushimi off. “I am a traitor.”

 

“No, you're not!” With a strong kick, fire from the skateboard propelled them forward. “You just risked your life for your King! No different from what I'd do for Anna!”

 

Yata didn't have the smarts to lie, so Fushimi knew he wasn't, but, still... the fact he could stay stuff like that with a straight face was incredible. It wasn't like he was wrong, though. Fushimi just couldn't wrap his head around whether or not he appreciated the fact that he wasn't long. As if hearing it said aloud was unnecessary.

 

So he did this 'for his King'? That's why Fushimi decided to risk his life? For someone else's sake?

 

Ahead of them, an X ripped the ground apart, and with huge, overwhelming impact, Sukuna burst upwards, sending the vanguard and third-in-command back. Although Fushimi landed poorly on his injured leg, Yata quickly recovered, fending off a would-be attack of Sukuna's.

 

It didn't bother Sukuna a bit.

 

“Saruhiko's in critical condition, and you're already in the yellow!” He tilted his head. “What'll you do? I heard the Reds' second might as well be dead, too.”

 

Taunting that like usually set Yata off, but, instead, he kept in place. “Don't you have any friends to play games with?”

 

“I've always played solo. It's a hundred times better than having to deal with weak players that slow me down.”

 

This coming from the kid who ridiculed Fushimi for not cooperating within a 'party'. He sounded no different from how Fushimi introducted himself to <jungle>. The kid was an absolutely hypocrite, and either completely oblivious or _proud_ of it.

 

“I'm plenty strong on my own,” he said, “the only one who's fun to play with is Nagare. That's why anyone who gets in Nagare's way's gonna be crushed!” Without warning, he advanced towards Yata, jumping at just the right time and position to make it near impossible for Yata to properly defend himself.

 

Sukuna, as impulsive and arrogant as he was, ultimately did this all for the same reason anyone here did anything. For his own King.

 

The Green King, Nagare Hisui, isn't Fushimi's problem.

 

Yanking the dagger from his leg, Fushimi used it to get the jump on Sukuna, and that let Yata at least push Sukuna back even more.

 

“<jungle> was your refuge,” Yata noted, “which means you remind me a lot of me. Just go home, in that case.”

 

“You're so full of it! I'm still stronger than the two of you put together!” Sukuna hastily moved in on Yata, and locked the two in a 'give and take' of blows.

 

The pool of green light revealed Douhan, clad in armour similar to her former affiliation. With precise, powerful movements, she dug her elbow right into Sukuna's stomach. For a split second, Sukuna seemed to pause in mid-air, but soon, the force of Douhan's attack sent him flying backwards. With heavy thumps, his back and head crashed against the wall behind him, leaving him gasping for breath covering the back of his head with his hand, while the other still tightly gripped his scythe.

 

He quickly moved to his feet, and his focus switched clean from Fushimi and onto Douhan. He didn't ask questions, just impulsively charged for her, pulling the scythe back and aiming right for her. At the last possible second, a violet Aura deflected the attack and drenched Sukuna, once again forcing him backwards and roughly landing on the floor.

 

Staggering to his feet, Fushimi silently observed the exchange. The pain from the knife lodged into his leg still burnt, almost as if it pulsated. Behind him, Yata was left – for once – speechless.

 

Douhan faced them, never removing her violet-hued mask.

 

“Move.” The mask distorted her voice, making her authoritative order sound that much more urgent.

 

Even with the wound in his leg, Fushimi didn't waste time. He didn't know nor understand why Douhan involved herself in this, but he wouldn't start complaining.

 

“I didn't mention anything about this,” he noted.

 

Distinterested, Douhan turned away. “I've already been hired.”

 

Hired by who? Fushimi doubted PRiSM had a change of heart, and none of the other Clans would extend their hand to someone consistently working alongside those they opposed. Although, that said, Munakata would have it in him to do such a thing. But would he do that without notifying Fushimi?

 

In the grand scheme of things, the details didn't matter. Fushimi, for now, would act first, ask later. Sukuna wouldn't stay out of the picture for much longer.

 

“Hold it!” The slam of a metallic piece hitting the wall echoed in the area. Yata wore a deep, fiery scowl, and still kept himself ready to aggress. “What the hell's going on here?” When it became apparent Douhan wouldn't turn to face him, he hit the wall again. “I'm talking to you! What's with you showing up all of a sudden?!”

 

Douhand said nothing, and kept waling, with Fushimi behind her.

 

“Hey, Fushimi!”

 

Sighting, Fushimi fought off the throbbing in his leg. “I don't know what she's doing, but if someone hired her to not kill us, I'm not about to complain. Neither should you.” Despite the situation, he smiled wrly. “I can't really do much in this state, so there's no point telling myself I shouldn't leave.”

 

“But--”

 

“Yata.” The smile immediately fell, and Fushimi narrowed his eyes. “Just five minutes ago, you were rambling about how helping Anna is your priority.” Resilient as he was, Yata couldn't afford to get sidetracked by other shit right now. Fushimi did his part for this fiasco, so Yata ought to get to whatever task he was assigned by his own King, instead of getting hung up on Fushimi following Douhan out of here.

 

“If you trust me, you'll drop it and go.”

 

For what seemed like an hour, Yata gawked at Fushimi, and his stare only occasionally turned to Douhan. He had a stiff look, and never released of the pipe. What dragged him out of is internal conflict wasn't a decision, but the sound of harsh, energetic yelling. Dozens of low-ranked <jungle> Clansmen poured into the area, ready to bash someone's skull in.

 

Douhan's hand glew violet, and a powerful jet of the Aura pushed back majority of the Clansmen. Without warning, she she tugged Fushimi over to her, immediately 'sinking' down into the floor.

 

“Fushimi!”

 

Fushimi looked in Yata's general direction. “Finish what you started and leave!”

 

***

A red speare drove its way into the floor, cutting the White Rice Party off. Staring at its shape, unwanted familiarity crawled up Kuroh’s spine. He recognised the crimson, jaw-like look of the speare, and consequently drew Kotowari without hesitation. His instincts told him to, and he listened.

 

A second speare spiralled towards him, and collided with tremendous force against the blade. It persisted, less like a weapon and more like an animal. Kuroh doesn’t understand how it still has both the length and power to persist, but it did.

 

That itself was vexing enough, but then the speare gave him something else to worry about - it split in half. Briefly, Kuroh saw its middle appear to melt, and the bottom weaved around and behind him. Quickly, Kuroh stepped from between them, but the second speare stilled his blade.

 

Forcing it out seemed a poor decision, but feeling as if the speares slowly cornered him frustrated him. He extends his spatial hand, forced to back off, but the speares effortlessly swerved and followed him. Not wasting time, he took his chances sending the spatial hand in the direction the speares came from.

 

Sure enough, he felt the hand hit something, and instantly clenched his fist, sharply pulling in the Strain responsible. The second his fist closed, the speares lost their shape, splattering to the ground with an unpleasant sound.

 

Shiki appeared, not making any effort to free himself. Kuroh could see it in his eyes, there wasn’t any actual fire in them. More like a determined light. He wasn’t viewing Kuroh as an enemy.

 

Trying to fight him really doesn’t set well with Kuroh. The kid did not want to be here, and he only did what he had to slow them down and live up to orders of others.

 

“I won’t have you deterring my Clan,” Kuroh said, “but I can’t say I necessarily wish to fight you.”

 

Shiki just stared at him. If one looked closely enough, they could see only mild surprise in his dark eyes.

 

Kuroh cautiously lowered his spatial hand, but made sure not to loosen his grip. “You don’t want to be here.”. It wasn’t a question. “There’s no reason trying to do something if you’re not motivated. It’ll end up a half-done job.”  
  


Still, Shiki kept silent, with his mouth in a tight, straight line. He didn’t struggle, instead staring cautiously at Kuroh, with his gaze looking last behind him only a few times, as if gauging Neko and Shiro.

 

The longer Kuroh waited for a response, the odder this seemed. He was unnaturally still.

 

Kuroh _saw_ something in Shiki's eyes. Like a smoldering fire, but less fierce.

 

***

 

Neko growled to herself, drawing Shiki’s attention.

 

He didn’t like this girl.

  
  


He didn’t like this _Clan_.

  
  


But he didn’t _hate_ them either. He couldn’t hate them.

  
  


Fierce morals, unwavering loyalty - both led by a very human person. The dynamic made Shiki all over. It made him curl into himself.

  
  


The girl, Miyabi Ameno, had the worst look of them all. Bright, mismatched eyes shouting to the world she’d do anything for her King, and that she _knew_, without a doubt, what they fought for.

  
  


That conviction dug teeth and claws into Shiki’s shoulders, on par with Fuyu’s grip just last December. It made his heart pound and his blood pump. He was _exhausted_ , and _itching_ to get away.

  
  


Akina. How would _Akina_ handle this? _She_ didn’t live her life irresolute and uncertain. Dive in. Offensive and aggressive. _She_ should’ve been here, she already demonstrated how easily she pushed the Black Dog back, and between her and Mishakuji, the Silver Clan would be taken care of.

 

Shiki didn’t understand why Yuko told _him_ to them.

 

The others mixed up _everything_. Or, rather, Mishakuji had every _obligation_ to assist Iwafune against the Blue King. He screwed everything up favour of self-interest.

  
  


Shiki _really_ wanted to hate him. Beneath all his bravado and finesse, he had nothing to offer but violence and selfishness. He could gloss over it with poems and advice he recycled from the late Colourless King, but none of it convinced Shiki he was anything more than some lowly beast. All the concealer and face cream in the world wouldn’t mask that.

  
  


What kept him from hating Mishakuji was Fuyu. Whenever she started thinking of how she was injured, she got restless, crawled into herself. Then she complained about how lingering on Mishakuji’s type would only tire hee out. That she _couldn’t_ hate someone when she remained static in this whole mess. Shiki got this far going at her pace, he didn’t plan on regressing.

  
  


Still, he felt waves crashing inside him. Against jagged crag of cliff-side rocks. He felt the need to do more. He had to do more. He understood where Fuyu came from, they really couldn’t afford going against not only , but PRiSM, the Clan that put care and resources into their well-being. Combined with sheer size, buying the hand that fed them would be suicide.

  
  


This was all so much bigger than one or two Kings clashing. The Silver Clansmen knew that.

  
  


Shiki desperately needed Fuyu to develop her own cause he’d be more than happy to carry out. Doing whatever necessary to make Akina’s position easier and safer, that was Fuyu’s focus.

  
  


“I won’t take silence as tacit submission.”

  
  


The Black Dog’s voice jarred Shiki out of his stupor. Three pairs of eyes watched him with varying intensity. Bright, steadfast, much unlike his.

  
  


Cotton lodged in his throat, and he nodded to himself, then at the Black Dog. Just a big. If he could get him to loosen up his grasp just a bit, he could act.

 

He twisted out out of the Black Dog’s hand. He had no intention of killing or even significantly injuring him. He just had to force him back.

  
  


He didn’t get three steps in before the scene changed. No longer the basement, the area morphed into dark, damp, bluish rock, with the ambiance of water dripping down from stalagmites to puddles below. The ambience left Shiki in solitude, and he could hardly see five feet in front of him.

  
  


The second he tried walking forward, he ran straight into a stalactite. The girl changed not only his surroundings, but depth perception as well, and the rock felt very real. Naturally, he recoiled from the pillar, but, like clockwork, someone shoved him against it. At the impact, the cavern dissolved into rose petals, leaving him face first against a wall.

  
  


It didn’t hurt. Too much adrenaline acted as an anesthetic.

  
  


Shiki strained his head to look over his shoulder, barely able to meet gunmetal blue eyes. The Black Dog held no malice in his share, no thorns. Nothing like Mishakuji’s. No alarms blared, and Shiki found himself bizarrely at ease.

  
  


“Frankly, I doubt you have it in you to really do anything.”. The Dog narrowed clear, alert eyes. “But if you try harming my Clan, I won’t show any mercy.”

  
  


“Why do you think that?”

  
  


“You don’t have that look in your eye.”

  
  


Shiki found himself relaxing his muscles, releasing nearly all tension.

  
  


“Neither do you.”

  
  


The man’s eyes widen. He seemed ready to respond, but bells ringing cut him off. Throwing her arms up, Ameno ululated her frustration.

  
  


“Let’s go! I can tell, he's not gonna do anything to hurt us!”

  
  


The assumption squirmed down Shiki’s nerves.

  
  


After a moment of silence, the sword slid from Shiki's shoulder. The injury burrowed into him with sharp heat. Any normal person would cry or cringe in agony, but Shiki bared it.

  
  


No.

  
  


He didn't bare with it.

  
  


He still didn't notice it.

  
  


All he could think about were the girl's _words_. They were random at best, without any thought put behind them. They acted as a geyser, and all at once, a myriad of words erupted into his throat.

 

He said things. Lots of things. To himself, but loudly. What he said, he didn't know. But it was rapid-fire. Intense. He thought he spoke quietly, but the basement heard everything. _Everything._

 

***

 

The tenth basement level of <jungle>'s interior became disconcertingly still. Still looking Kuroh dead in the eye, Shiki left him at a loss for words. The boy went from (barely) clashing against the White Rice Party to muttering about _everything_ , as if he more vented to himself than actually spoke to them. By all means, he desperately reached out to outsides with some sort of hope they'd listen to what he had to say for his own King.

 

For Kuroh, the weight of that action settled on his chest roughly. Hesitantly, he withdrew Kotowari from Shiki's shoulder, and watched him slide down to the floor, faced buried into his knees. As if someone flipped a switch and he shut down, like clockwork.

 

To say it was like looking in a mirror was wrong, but nonetheless, Kuroh couldn't help but somehow level with Shiki. He had no idea how to imagine the stress of being under orders that even your own King didn't believe in What Shiki was thinking had to border between faithfully following her or going against what she did for her own sake, most likely. From the looks of it, Shiki intended on the former, but the latter spilled out like a cracked open dam.

 

“Shiro, what do you make of this?”

 

Naturally, the Silver King appeared preoccupied with the potential disaster ahead of them, rather than this. Slowly spinning the umbrella, his amber eyes landed on Shiki. Just barely, a tired smile curved his lips.

 

“Say, Kuro, wouldn't you say you and Neko are the best to give judgement on this?”

 

Next to him, Neko tilted her head, and Kuroh found himself mirroring her.

 

Shiro's smile became more natural. “You two better relate to what is he's feeling for his King, I bet. As a King myself, I don't tihnk I have any say in this Clansman-centred matter.”

 

While Kuroh stared at him, still frozen in place, Neko twirled in front of Shiro with a determined stare. She pointed at Shiki, ignoring the fact that he didn't even look up at her, and nodded.

 

“Shiro,this is weird, but my instincts tell me he's not gonna pull anything funny.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Like I said! My instincts are telling me that!”

 

As expected, Neko didn't budge from her reasoning. Instead, she crossed her arms, nodding with a satisfied smile. Given her personality, if she hadn't had the slightest faith in Shiki, she wouldn't already been tugging Shiro and Kuroh away and leave the boy on his own, with absolutely no patience for anything he'd have to say.

 

She directed everyone's attention onto Kuroh. “You agree, right Kurosuke?”

 

Did _he_ agree?

 

Kuroh trailed back to Shiki's balled up stature. The more he thought about the frantic look in his tired grey eyes, the more it dug into his skin. It reminded him of how fiercely Neko defended Shiro during the murder incident, and, without fail, that always reminded him of himself towards Ichigen. And now, right in front of him, was a boy younger than either him or Neko, clinging to any opportunity to defend his King.

 

Instinctively, Kuroh held out his hand to Shiki. “Can you stand?”

 

At that, Shiki slowly lifted his head, an exhausted, suspicious look on his face. He focused on Kuroh's hand, before finally putting his hand on his need and standing up.. Watching him, Kuroh noticed that the injury on his shoulder already stopped bleeding, despite not closing in the slightest.

 

From behind, Kuroh heard Shiro give an airy laugh.

 

“You recover fast,” he noted, “Shiki, to be honest, I can tell you're not lying... but I have met your King.” Contrasting his assuring statement, Shiro's smile quickly fell, and he looked off to the side. “The way she spoke didn't make it sound like she was particularly bothered by what was going on.”

 

Against the wall, Shiki tensed up. To Kuroh, it seemed he was mustering up the nerve to respond.

 

“Last month was a turning point.”

 

Shiro nodded. “You're telling me.”

 

This time, Shiki looked him dead in the eye. “Just last month it looked like you were fine holing yourself up until the last minute.” He held a sharp tone in his voice, with just enough venom to communicate frustration. “It's not like Fuyu likes what's going on now! She hates knowing it's scaring a bunch of people. She hates knowing that it's just alienating everyone from each other. She hates not being able to do anything and she-”

 

“ _I_ hate the fact that a grown man acts like he knows what's best for the entire world just because of one unfortunate event in his life that happened when he was eleven.”

 

The light voice cutting Shiki off held unprecedented cheerfulness, completely unfitting for the mood of the conversation. Nonetheless, it succeeded in calming Shiki. Following the boy's stare, Kuroh saw a short, freckled girl with deep, dark brown eyes. She had an oddly bright, tired smile, and wore a jacket just slightly too big for her. She leaned against a support beam, and waved shortly at the group.

 

Nothing about her seemed threatening, but as a King, she held the potential to be so. She was nothing like the previous Colourless King, and had not the emphereal wisdom as Master Ichigen did. In fact, the impression she left in Kuroh was vague. She held herself up as anything but a King, despite how highly Shiki clearly regarded her.

 

Shiki stared at her with wide eyes.“Why're... you here? _How'd_ you get here?”

 

Clapping her hands, Fuyu bowed in his direction. “Shiki, sorry. I kinda thought this up after sending you off! And as for how I got this far, that's thanks to someone else.”

 

Shiki staggered, clutching his shoulder, as if it still bled. “Thought what up? Who's 'someone else'?”

 

Fuyu straightened up, her hands behind her back. “A really important decision. So important I can't mention anything about it here. Same for the 'someone else'.” She nodded politely at Shiro, or more accurately, just a bit above his head. “Before then, Shiki, by any chance, have you seen Akina?”

 

Looking away, Shiki shook his head. “No.”

 

From where Kuroh stood, he could have sworn Fuyu's cheerful disposition faltered for a split second. “I see. Well, that's to be expected, I guess. Bad luck.” She sighed, tugging at the jacket tightly. “Anyway, Mr. Isana, it's nice to meet you again. As for your Clansmen, this is the first time we've properly met. Kuroh Yatogami and... _Neko_ , right?”

 

“That's me!” Neko, unrestrained, waved to herself with a wide smile. “So then, you're the Colourless King?”

 

Fuyu nodded. “For better or worse.” Briefly, Fuyu became distracted by the sound of Shiki's footsteps, her round eyes looking in their direction. When she was sure that he finally stood next to her, her smile widened, and she reached up an exaggerated amount, only to start ruffling his black hair. “You did a good job, Shiki.” Keeping her hand on his head, she got back to the topic. “Mr. Isana, I have a proposal to make.”

 

“A proposal?” Shiro rose an eyebrow. From the way he stood, this whole exchange was the last thing on Shiro's mind Just ahead of him was the Dresden Slate, its powers spreading to the entire world. Although he took Fuyu's remark in stride, Kuroh could tell he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

 

Fuyu, however, wasn't the least bit urgent. “That's right. It's a very important thing to discuss. Just not here.”

 

“Where do you suggest we _discuss_ it, then?”

 

“I don't suppose I can convince you to trust me when I say I can't explicitly say that either, huh?”

 

Shiro narrowed his eyes, tapping the umbrella on his shoulder. “If you don't mind, I and my Clansmen have somewhere to be. We can't afford to be late.”

 

Fuyu bit her lip, her shoulders slumping. “I understand that, but, personally, I disagree with your decision. Regarding on how to destroy the Slate.”

 

She already knew?

 

Just as Shiro predicted, no one could really determine how Fuyu found out about this and that. Kuroh found it unlike Master Ichigen's clairvoyance. He'd always been able to act before something got out of hand. For Fuyu's ability, it was different. She had to act as soon as she found something out, because it meant it was already set in motion, or dangerously close to happening.

 

Fuyu clutched the hem of her jacket. “I understand that but, please, hear me out.”

She said that, plenty of times already, but as far as Kuroh could tell, it was all she was doing. She _very deliberately_ refused to blurt out what was on her mind, as if waiting, stalling, eve, for something - or someone.

The one person offering any patience was Neko. She tugged at Shiro’s arm urgently, looking back and forth between Shiro and Fuyu. “My instincts are telling me that we gotta listen to her, Shiro.” Although she was talking about Fuyu, Kuroh could tell most of her focus rested on Shiki. Most likely, she felt a similar kindred-ship to the Clansman.

  
Weakly, Fuyu smiled at Neko's comment. “Neko, thank you. Meanwhile, Mr. Isana, you know Hisui won’t act if you don’t interact with the Dresden Slate.”. Fuyu kept a controlled, silent tone. “ The Slate’s released, I know, but, for now. Hear me out. You’re no fighter, the Blue King’s hanging on by a thread, and I’m surely not strong enough to do much of anything, but I know, for a fact, you’re letting duty cloud a game plan for no reason.”

  
  


“Duty?”

  
  


Fuyu shook her head. “If you want me to elaborate, you’ll listen to me. But not here.”

  
  


Much to Kuroh's chagrin, the girl wouldn't compromise.

  
  


In the midst of the White Rice Party's silence, Fuyu clenched her fists, with a fierce expression. “Hurry up and just listen! If I wanted to trick you I already would!”

  
  


Bright white shiny teeth

That can light down the abyss

Brings a healthy life

 

To Kuroh, Fuyu briefly didn't exist. His attention focused entirely on the B10 sign perpendicular to the wall and ceiling. Or, more specifically, the man who sat atop of it. Narrowing his eyes, Kuroh never took his eyes off of him. “Fuyu, if you're saying that this wasn't just to stall us, I can't say I'm convinced.”

 

Startled, Fuyu shook her head. “I had nothing to do with this!”

 

“She's tellin the truth.” Whilst Fuyu stood in place, Yukari Mishakuji made his move. He promptly jumped to the floor.

 

Just before he landed, Shiki tugged Fuyu away, jumping a fair distance from where Yukari landed. The exhaustion left his eyes, replaced by a feral, fierce fire. As if he channeled every ounce of contempt in his body to Yukari. Now, the Colourless Clan stood side by side with the Silver Clan. Right next to Shiro, Neko mirrored Shiki's defensive nature, baring fangs and claws, ready to fight.

 

By principle, Kuroh naturally stepped ahead of all four of them. Something like this, a final clash between former fellow Clansmen, was imminent since last October's clash. For months, Kuroh Yatogami trained and reaered himself for this inevitable moment. Neko and Shiro had to go forward, while Kuroh had to deal with this on his own, for their well-being and the sake of Shiro's plan. Whether they decided to go on ahead or follow Fuyu, he'd stay behind and defend their decision.

 

Right now, his one and only demand was for Shiro's permission to do this his own way.

 

The Silver King stared at him briefly, with wide, amber eyes. Slowly, his surprise turned into a warm smile. “This is the first time you've demanded anything of me.”

 

With a short nod, Kuroh couldn't help but return the smile.

 

Yukari gave a short sigh, a bemused look on his face.

 

“I commend your fighting spirit, Kuroh.”. He drew Ayamachi smoothly, gracefully, its end pointed at Kuroh. “ The second I’m given the chance, I’ll go for your King.”

 

Implying Kuroh would ever give him that chance. He wouldn’t. This wouldn’t go as the last two battles went. This was all or nothing for his own Clan’s well-being.

 

“And as for you…” Yukari trailed off, looking over at Fuyu and Shiki. His smile never fell. “If you go through with this, it won’t go well for you.”

 

“I don’t intend on taking threats from the likes of you seriously.”

 

She spoke slowly, coldly, all while standing proudly, with Shiki still close by her. Together, the two looked far more confident that when divided. A conviction belonging to them against a common enemy. Not the least bit intimidated. There was a strength to the Kuroh couldn’t help to admire.

 

Almost like he was disappointed in her response, Yukari shook his head. “That's a shame.”

 

“Not as much of a shame as how you turned out to be.”

 

braced himself, as did Kuroh. The Black Dog, no matter what, could not fail here.

 

 

 

A great, grey wall divided the space between them. Against it, both Kotowari and Ayamachi clanked and recoiled back to their owners, failing to clash against each other.

 

Fuyu stood in front of the White Rice Party, with a strong, burning look in her dark brown eyes. She stared Yukari Mishakuji down without an ounce of fear nor hesitation, with wisps of grey Aura swirling around her.

 

She held her out to Kuroh. “If you want to fight, then take my hand.”

 

“ _What?”_

 

From the sheer amount of grey surrounding Fuyu, her Sword of Damocles no doubt shown above her in the sky. “Frankly, I have no reason to not extend my Aura to you in order to help you. That’s common sense. But I’m aware you’re stuck in outdated values and probably don’t want me to do so in honour of Ichigen Miwa. So know for a _fact_ I am not above forcing the Aura upon you if you insist on fighting.”

 

Kuroh involuntarily lowered Kotowari, taken aback by Fuyu’s brazen statement. He’d made a clear-cut decision when he pledged his loyalty to Shiro - to follow a path Ichigen Miwa would have honoured as Kuroh’s late King and adoptive father. To take in Fuyu’s Aura just felt wrong. Not to just him, either. Looking over to Shiki, the thought of half-heartedly taking Fuyu’s hand wouldn’t respect Shiki’s clear faith in her.

 

Fuyu was not giving him a choice. It was more like she was _testing_ him.

 

Kuroh determined his answer, looking to Shiro.

 

The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I can’t waste time having a tea party with someone. Fuyu, I’m sorry, but the Dresden Slate and Nagare Hisui are my priority.”

 

Fuyu squirmed, frustrated. “Then I’ll being her here instead. And then you can risk dealing with both the Violet and Green King at the same time.” She looked in Yukari’s direction, almost pouting. “You’re under specific orders to not be too far from your Clan. If we went somewhere else, you can’t afford to leave the rest of to deal with HOMRA and Scepter 4 on their own.”. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “ Especially since two are down already.”

 

Her news, by some way, breaks Yukari’s nonchalant smile. His eyes don’t widen, but there’s the slightest glimmer of surprise.

 

Unable to see it, Fuyu continued. “One of them is dying. The other injured. You’re smart enough to guess who’s who.”

 

Kuroh noticed Shiro and Neko trying to make a move, but before even Yukari realises, Shiki’s soeares round out around them. Shiki hadn’t even looked away from Fuyu and Yukari.

 

“I don’t want to rub it in your face that your allies are injured. I dislike that everything’s gotten to the point where everyone wants to kill each other over some worthless rock. That’s not how it should be.”

 

A light smile crossed Yukari’s lips. One of respect. “Regardless of your opinion, the Slate made a good decision in choosing you, Fuyu. If she were here, Akina’d be starstruck.”

 

“Don’t act like you have any right to talk about us, let alone my Kingship.”

 

“Even though I helped you with it?”

 

Fuyu tugged at the hem of her jacket. “I doubt you know what it means to _help_ someone.”

 

“That's an awful accusation to ake of someone you barely know.”

 

“I know you well enough to know that you former King made a mistake when he took you in.”

 

It felt like the basement started to tilt. Silence weighed down on the ground, becoming its own Leviathan, at Fuyu's accusation.

 

If Fuyu could properly see, she'd be able to know just how intently Yukari stared at her. It wasn't a readable expression, but there was enough stirring in his eyes to signal the worse of anything a person could think or do.

 

Yukari to made a move. Kuroh kicked off from the front of his heel, but, again, they’re both deterred.

 

Crimson dipped below the blades, violently digging into the ground right next to Yukari. The sudden movements elicit Yukari to jump back. The speares followed him relentlessly, not offering a single bit of respite from their onslaught. Shiki’s attack succeeded in getting Yukari to back off, and forced him to focus his energy on deflecting the crimson speares.

 

Shiki remained impassive, not indicating a single bit of aggression nor anger. Rather, he appeared calm, content, even. He managed something Kuroh never saw before, and that was backing Yukari into a corner.

 

“If you can’t adequately defend yourself against a 15 year old, then don’t act like you should be trying to show off.” Fuyu turned away from the mess. “Yashiro Isana, I’ll say it again - if you don’t follow me, I’ll just bring the Violet King _here_. None of us want that.”

 

The one the young Colourless King backed into a corner wasn’t Yukari, it was _Shiro_. Shiki doing the bare minimum against Yukari served as a warning. Had he seriously been an enemy, the rest of them would be in serious trouble, and losing him and his King as potential allies could prove a huge mistake.

 

Whatever Fuyu had up her sleeve seemed urgent enough to her that she personally put the Slate’s condition on the back burner, and she was willing to jeopardise it by bringing an opposing force to the battlefield itself.

 

An understanding of that plastered itself over Shiro’s pale face. He and Fuyu watched each other with unblinking, unwavering warm eyes, as if waiting for someone to finally break eye contact. The still air between them felt more overwhelming than the one-sided onslaught between Yukari and Shiki.

 

Maybe the stillness was precalculated as well.

 

Kuroh stepped forward, nodding to himself. “Shiro, if we stay here any longer we won’t get anything done,” Kuroh warned. He worded himself carefully.

 

At the end of his careful words, a speare dug into a support beam, tearing it in half and dragging its way through the ceiling. The echoes of the ceiling's fall and the crash of rubble between the young Strain and Yukari cut them off from each other. Nothing like that could stop Yukari, but it acted as a warning. Saying nothing, Shiki moved back to Fuyu's side, but his tired eyes never left the rubble.

 

Likewise, his King kept her eyes all on Shiro, with vague accomplishment already lighting up her eyes.

 

The conflict on Shiro’s face doesn’t subside. “If you claim to have a better plan, I can’t afford to pass is up.”

 

Fuyu smiled as if she always knew Shiro would comply. “I have a plan to get a better plan, but it’s the same thing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: I will never let characters like Fushimi nor Yata have the spotlight for long.


	18. Kümmern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [whispers] Gay.

Next to a tired girl pressing her back against the wall, Yuko stood in the entry of the alley, arms crossed. The rain, a downpour just a minute go, calmed to a steady stream. Yuko remained untouched, light wafts of wind keeping raindrops off her figure.

 

Her violet eyes focused on the sabre, beads of blood on it now on the pavement as well. Her shoulders fell with a sigh.

 

“I don't think you killed him, but HOMRA'll have to prioritise his well-being over anything else now.”

 

Akina didn't respond. Nothing in the world except _one thing_ mattered at this moment.

 

It hovered there, dark, clashing against the dark grey sky. Wisps of energy wrapped around it, thin and sparse in shape. The blackness of the Sword left the orb protruding from its side barely noticeable.  
  
  


It felt like the world came to a stop. Akina barely noticed rain, and she stood there doing nothing. Beside her, Yuko calms her winds, sending an upward draft to disperse the foggy dome to show off the Sword in clear view.  
  
  


She was poised as ever, picturesque as a model. She discarded her solemn nature without fail, but there settled a tired look in her eyes nonetheless.

  
  


She pushed blonde hair off her shoulder. “I’m the regional manager of a massive company. Along with the director the Procession Unit.” She looked away from the Sword, tapping her fan against her shoulder. “Compared to the influx of Strains erupting worldwide, this ‘fighting’ business is hardly in our best interests.” She pointed up to the sky. “ _Especially_ against a King, wouldn't you say?”  
  
Above, the Blue Sword of Damocles cracked, with small remnants of it falling down and dissolving in the air. Yuko spun her yellow fan around. “It’s like kicking a hurt puppy.”  
  
She pointed a painted nail at the sabre. “Then there’s that mess.”  
  
Akina didn’t follow the pointing, instead keeping her eyes on Yuko. The tall woman kept her trademark confident smile. The click of her heels added to her strong presence, sweeping along the concrete. She always had this sort of presence to her. Proud, upfront, almost picture perfect, a free spirit and Kameko's most relied-on Clansman.

  
  


“If it had hit the Red King instead, it would've been even less pretty.” Yuko sighed dramatically, putting her back against the wall across from Akina. “Just what were you thinking?”

  
  


Being lectured like this felt like a foreign experience. <jungle> left Akina to her own devices whenever they could afford it. That 'free time' felt suffocating. It just meant that Kotosaka flew around nearby. In the span of several months, and trust was never truly extended to her. She had the benefits of a J-rank without the freedom, and the bond formed between the others barely scraped beyond the brick wall built between them and Akina.

  
  


The only exception was Sukuna, and that was solely because she had no reason to avoid a 13 year old kid whose immaturity was being taken advantage of and twisted around for a grown man's world domination wet dream.

  
  


A silvery laugh escaped Yuko's lips. “Being around that _hell hound_ of  <jungle>'s is _such_ a bad influence on you.” She leaed out of the alley, just enough to observe the other two. “Well.” She slipped her fan out of her sash. “I can't say I'm surprised to see our 'sponsor' is having a hard time against a King all by his lonesome.”

  
  


Suddenly, with a snap of her wrist and sharp turn of her hips, she spun the fan out, slapping the air. A gales torm burst its way through. It plastered Akina against the alley. Crouching down, she peaked out of the alley. Bits of litter out in the road and street hurtling away from where Yomito Gate was, and further away, forced Munakata and Seigo back. Akina watched the two, both taken aback by the wind, with Seigo still trying to take advantage of the situation, aiming for the King. The mist surrounding them thickened into a sharp, thicker violet hue that engulfed them.

  
  


Akina's eyes trailed back to the sabre, still surrounded blood drops already settling into the cement. She'd already forgotten what its hilt felt like in her hand. She didn't care to remind herself. The thought made her throat go dry, creeping a sickening _feeling_ down into her hands. It felt like she couldn't keep it from trembling. She dug her nails into her arms, hoping it'd stabilise her body.

This could be Akina’s chance to dive in and stall the Blue King significantly.

  
So why wouldn't her feet _let_ her?

  
Every time she braced herself, a stiff weight settled into her legs, like shackles dragging her underwater. Something crawled into the back of her mind. A capricious voice that otherwise kept silent, lethargic and banal.  
  


Shiki got stuck ‘against’ the Silver Clan. Fuyu made move no one anticipated.

  
A boy Akina brought into PRiSM. A girl who Akina brought to PRiSM and inevitably grew fond of. Loved.

  
Compared to them, what did she owe _Seigo?_

  
***

 

Smoke filled her lungs, even after it all disappeared into hot, humid air. Every centimetre of her body seeped into itself with pain. She didn't know where her parents went. They'd disappeared into rubble and fire. She was still trapped under tonnes of a building's formerly pristine walls, like a rag doll buried beneath.

 

Across from her, the small girl saw someone else, a boy a good few years older than her. Motionless, pierced by destruction. Words could not come out of the girl's mouth. Stuttery, confused noises barely heard over the wind were supposed to be her calling out to the boy. To find _someone_ that could help her.

 

Motionless, dead silence invaded her ears. Her first instinct was to scream. The need to scream and cry grew and grew in her at alarming speed. Like turning the volume knob to a machine.

 

And then she heard a gravel voice calling for others. Then heard the crumbling of dirt and debris. She heard footsteps. Through the cracks of where she lay trapped, she saw a tall figure dressed in black with brown hair appear. Her age barred her from genuinely understanding the nature of his identity, but his silohuette left him vaguely recognisable. Someone her mother and father knew, someone they worked with at a jewellery store and inside a large, castle-like building that she loved to visit.

 

She tried crawling out from where she was trapped, but pain and exhaustion chained her down. Trying to prop herself up on her elbows made her slip back down, and rubble atop of her would shift around, heavier than before.

 

She'd been trapped catching glimpses of that man push the rock piercing the boy off of him. Seeing them bathed in a greenish hue without reason.

 

That man, picking up the boy, never turned in any other direction. Never took notice of the girl.

 

***

Akina'd been snapped out of her own world by someone yanking her arm. The present faded into her sight, and Yuko, moved them both farther back into the alley.

 

“We've got company.”

 

Holding still, Akina continued to listen. By the tone of Yuko's voice, she wasn't done talking.

 

As expected, her voice returned to that honeyed tone she always used to coat irritation.

 

“Scepter 4's cavalry comes to the aid of their King, huh? If you think about it, there's no point in us sticking around.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Isn't that obvious?”

 

“No, that's not what I mean. Why's... that guy still alive? The Blue King could've killed him off by now instead of playing along with this 'stalling'”.

 

Yuko's grip on Akina's arm loosened. “You have a point, but it's not that simple. The mist is probably impending his vision. Not to mention, even if Iwafune isn't a King, Munakata probably has no intention on straining his Damocles more than necessary.” She shrugged. “That's just speculation, though. In any case, it's no point-”

 

Akina phased out of her hold, and made her way to the entry of the alley, peering out to see what exactly was happening.

  
A dome encased the two, forcing mist away from them. The mist could only wrap around the dome, freeing those inside of acidic air.

  
With her keen eyes, Akina saw Clansmen right beside their King. His lieutenant stood _right_ beside him, wearing an expression even firmer, fiercer than his. She spoke, but the dome prevented Akina from hearing. She just her words spun a feeling within the rest of Scepter 4.

  
That whole Clan against one lonely man. And that man expected Akina’s assistance.

  
Every nerve in her body recoiled at the notion.

  
“Yuko.”

  
Still standing back, the woman quirked up an eyebrow, saying nothing.

  
Akina crouched down, reached out for the sabre. “I need the fog thicker.”

  
“Hold it.” With a firm click, Yuko pressed her black heel atop the blade. “We’re not immune to the mist. You know that. Diving into it won’t do you any good, Aki.” She looked at the dome. “This is a lost cause. Iwafune is just a-”

  
She stumbled, slipping and having to regain balance by leaning a hand on the wall opposite of her.   
Akina held the sabre in her hand.

  
“A fool,” Yuko sighed.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Akina allowed herself to 'disappear', invisible, barely noticeable apart from her shadow and the distortions her made in the mist.

 

She looked for him. That large, scarred man with dead light bulbs for eyes that she didn't see standing beside the Blue King in the dome.

 

Instead, she saw him standing a few metres from it. He kept watch on it, but made no moves of his own. And, yet, when Akina got just a bit closer to him, he grunted.

 

“I can tell you're there.”

 

The smoothness to his voice caught Akina off guard. Nothing tense nor aggressive could be heard. The man was absolutely calm.

 

It compelled Akina to show herself, and the two stood in that acidic mist in plain sight. His eyes focused on the sabre she held, and, for a split second, Akina noticed a tinge of – sadness wasn't the right word, but she couldn't think of something better.

 

She tightened her hand around the sabre, the one he never took his eyes off, and tossed it. Right at his feet.

 

He made no move for the sabre nor Akina. Only watched her in silence. A depth in his eyes made Akina avoid his gaze, but she stayed put.

 

“This belonged to one of our own.”

 

In spite of herself, Akina felt herself flinch inwardly. “I'm aware.”

 

“He'd been someone I trained in fencing. Eager to learn. I won't lie and say he was amazing, but he had a zeal for the Clan no one could match up to.”

 

“Why are you bringing this up now? I just don't need the thing anymore.”

 

His gold eyes narrow. “No one in their right mind would work with people they _hate_. Did their goal appeal to you that much? Or is there something else?”

 

Akina's stomach dropped. Her eyes widened. It was like white noise filled up her ears.

 

'Something else'. _Something else._

 

''Something else' replayed in her mind in vivid, high definition colour.

 

***

 

It'd been a dumb decision, really.

 

And now she had blood pouring out of her shoulder.

 

After getting stuck against and crumbled in front of _him_.

 

Akina covered the wound on her shoulder, making no moves to get up and properly recover. She stubbornly kept her eyes on the floor, even when she felt the steel of his blade under her jaw. She only begrudgingly looked up when the sting from it increased as he forced her to look her up, and she definitely felt blood pool up under the blade and slide down her throat slowly.

 

“You have a certain quality to you,” he commented, “a fire that just won't go out even if it's dumped down into the river.” He closed his eyes with a far-off smile. “The way you fight... is the way one protects a loved one.”

 

Taking her chances, Akina stuck at him again, only to feel an unbearable pressure on her right shoulder, the sinew being ripped, and she ate pavement once more. The pressure never lessened, in fact, it increased. Instead of giving the son of a bitch the satisfaction of her pain, she pressed her face hard into the pavement and bit her lip.

 

Just barely, the pressure lessened. “It'd be a waste to just kill you, and I'd be depriving the world of potential you've yet to reach.” There was no mercy in his tone, no, he spoke as if he was stating facts. “But if you keep trying to fight, it'll end poorly.”

 

Doctor's voice. Akina shifted just enough to meet the woman's pale, calm eyes. They were void of any sympathy, not to Akina's surprise. The only surprising thing about this was the sudden relief of pressure on her shoulder. The swordsman resorted to bowing politely at Doctor, formally introducing himself as 'Yukari Mishakuji'.

 

“Don't kid yourself, with how long I knew your late King, I know who you are,” Doctor dismissed, “so what's with this ruckus on _my_ Domain?”

 

Yukari waved to Akina, sheating his sword. “Your Clansman had a bit of a tiff with my King, I merely took the order of taking care of it. He said you wouldn't necessarily _mind_ as long as no one died.” He wasn't wrong, either. “To be fair, she isn't the best at combat...” He shook his head. “No, she's not an expert, but she has _potential_. I probably wouldn't have killed her even if I was told her condition in the end didn't matter.”

 

Doctor crossed her arms. “I doubt it. So what was this tiff, Akina?”

 

Akina staggered to her feet, still cradling her shoulder. “I...”

 

Now, it felt embarrassing to say. She was stupid, really, really stupid in trying to get back at them for what they did to Fuyu. But she could have just sat there seething, either. She hadn't even wanted a fight to begin with, she'd just demanded to know why <jungle> let it escalate so far. Fuyu hadn't done anything wrong, she didn't deserve what happened. But that godforsaken 'King' said it was 'necessary' for the future. That was all it took for her, and she got her ass kicked as a result.

 

Reluctantly, she looked over to Yukari.

 

“This... had nothing to do with PRiSM as a whole... so please restrain from aiming for the Clan.”

 

The Violet King didn't wait for the swordsman to offer a response. “Explain to him why this has nothing to do with PRiSM, Akina,” Doctor ordered.

 

Akina nodded. “In PRiSM...” Akina trailed off, feeling the burns from the shock seep deeper into her nerves. “In the Violet Clan, acting out of turn without the King's knowing is an automatic defect.”

 

Doctor nodded. “I value individuality, ambition, but neither of those concepts can be carried through without consequences.”

 

Akina understood that. The minute she decided to try and do something, she threw away her obligations to PRiSM, and PRiSM no longer had any obligations towards her.

 

“The only thing you've... done wrong is trespass on a Kingly Domain without authorisation, but my doing so already negates the principle behind Protocol 120, as far as the Violet Clan is concerned.”

 

The Clan's priority was to do the _bare minimum_ in relation to Kingly and Clan affairs. It made things easier, and the King wasn't interested in politics between Clans, so her policy was that the minute – no, the _second_ one of her own made another Clan their problem, they could say goodbye to their former Clan. It was a convenient way of thinking, but if even the Green King assumed Doctor's lack of disapproval over all this, then he already knew there'd be no consequences for his own Clan to act against just one former Violet Clansman. Ultimately, the same went for Fuyu.

 

“To a King, it's a win-win for other Clans. If a Clansman does something out of turn without her permission, they're disowned, and other Clans don't have to worry about any oppostition against lashing out against the former Clansman,” Akina added. By now, where she held bare skin on her shoulder, she felt hots welts develop.

 

The bird spoke deeply. “There's no need to revoke her Aura.”

 

Surprised, Doctor tilted her head. “Why's that?”

 

“I merely wish to make a proposal, Violet King. A 'trade', if you will.”

 

“You're asking me to relinquish a person's life to you.”

 

“Her abilities as a Strain are commendable, and combined with my reign, she'd be a valuable asset to <jungle>'s game. It would be a waste for either of us to cast her potential aside.”

 

Doctor studied Akina, with nothing but an ice storm reflected in her eyes. “What's your take on this, Akina?”

 

Did she _need_ to give her opinion on this? She was practically selling her soul to the Devil in exchange for her _life_. Dying like this would be the worse, Akina would immediately regret declining the second she felt that cold sword cut across her neck. And then how would Fuyu react to that later? She was already in shock over the week before, if Akina died now, she'd leave Fuyu with even more to grieve over. She could barely see, she was in pain, and the Slate's influence on her seemed to rip her apart from the inside. 'Chosen' to be a King, please, her body could barely handle the weakest King's position. There was no way she could handle that all on her own.

 

On the other hand, going along with <jungle> could drag Akina into a world she wanted no part of, surrounded by strangers and a King she didn't even know the face of, and who knows how frequently she'd actually be able to see Fuyu in the first place? She'd still be there in that white, plain room, blaming herself, and Akina could never be able to face that.

 

Akina felt sick, the sting of bile rupturing her throat. “Do- Kameko Ryujin.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I'm in no position to do so myself, but I have a request.”

 

“You mean keeping your Aura isn't enough?”

 

“That's the Green King's condition!” Akina snapped, and she forced herself to gulp down frustration. “Doctor, please... hear me out...”

 

Instead of answering, the Violet King stared Akina down.

 

 _Fuyu..._ she could barely handle this world on her own, and Doctor had countless bits of knowledge and studies that might be able to help her maintain some health while she struggled under the Dresden Slate's influence. Even if she wasn't a Violet Clansman any more, she desperately needed Doctor's assistance, more so if Akina wouldn't be able to contact her on a regular basis, unable to support her.

 

“So essentially, you want me to take her under my wing?”

 

“I'm under <jungle>'s wing, she's under yours.” Please, _please_. “So many Strains of yours are involved in  <jungle>, this is bound to happen again an--”

 

“If I may interject.” Yukari rose his hand. “Violet King, you have countless Strains under your influence, and several of them are already involved in our SNS, JUNGLE, disowning that number would only _hurt_ your relation with them.”

 

Doctor sighed to herself, and raked a hand through her bobbed hair. There was no rhyme nor reason to this negotiation, it was more like the two Kings bounced off one another for ideas and went along for the ride. The only thing Akina could think was how he wasn't wrong. If Doctor really tried to cut off ties with every single person that got involved with the missions issued by JUNGLE, it'd be a huge problem for PRiSM if there ever came a time JUNGLE decided to target their building for a mission, yet at the same time, leaving them to do their own thing left a trail back to PRiSM. Neither option left the Clan's hands clean, but one at least cut off hell-raisers from their current luxuries provided by PRiSM, which eventually _would_ hurt them.

 

“Hisui, the timing of this is all too convenient,” Doctor commented, “the Silver King, with all his knowledge, is missing, the Gold King is MIA, and Scepter 4 has their hands tied by everything your Clan's been up to.” She tapped her finger on her arm. “Does this have something to do with the Dresden Slate?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“I see...” Doctor clicked her tongue, calm as ever, apparently the thought of a Clan looking to do something with the Dresden Slate didn't bother her. Then again, why _would_ it? The woman claimed to have always been enthralled by the supernatural, even when she had in-tact connections to the Gold Clan so many years ago. She had her own theories and studies many Clansmen participated in, and on the off occasion did mention something about the Silver Clan's status, but she never really elaborated her thoughts on them.

 

“I allow a former Clansman to keep her Aura, then trade her into your Clan, I assist another former Clansman with her new-found abilities as a King, I don't penalise my Strains for getting involved in your mess... but what's in it for me?” She gave the bird a charming smile. “I am uninterested in the politics of Kings and Clans, but that doesn't mean I don't understand a thing or two about them. It'd be an issue if my specific company got mixed up in your game. So I would assume this means you retract the _Clansmen that belonged to me_ – that you've so conveniently neglected to mention - that have involved themselves in your site as well from the site?

 

Preferably a _ban_ , because I can't have Clansmen nor employees revealing their identities to the public by using their Aura or forgetting to remove their name tag during a mission. If you keep the Strains you've involved, that should still leave you with more than enough reinforcement.”

 

“..Affirmative.”

 

“Which also implies you keep your little bugs out of my building. I won't have you installing surveillance cameras making any of my establishments look like some shoddy nightclub.”

 

Her presence was overwhelming, like a tropical storm. She wouldn't relent on her conditions. “Further, regarding the Silver Clan... they're an interesting pair... one fits into something I've recently looked into, and that Strain is just a wonder altogether, I'm sure you know, I think it'd be beneficial to have some footage or insight on them, I'm sure you already have more than enough. Ah, and the Slate--”

 

“Your assistance with monitoring and recording the Slate's development is an invaluable resource, Violet King.” Hisui's bird flapped his wings, drawing more attention to himself than he already had. “I promise, nothing shall be done to a Clan with a likeminded interest.” The bird's beady eyes met Akina's. “As for this one, if it's of any comfort, I do have someone who would be able to keep an eye on her. He's very reliable.”

 

The way the bird stared at her prompted a tiny spark in Akina. “I don't need to be babysat.”

 

“Surely not,” Hisui agreed, “I just want him to show you the ropes of our Clan. It'd be very stressful to join a group of people without someone to turn to.”

 

“And who would _that_ be?”

 

“Tenkei Iwafune. He's my most trusted Clansman. Much more like a father, really.”

 

In the middle of their exchange, Doctor chuckled, and an oddly far-off look replaced her hard stare. “That's what he goes by now? I guess he isn't a stranger to Akina, but she hasn't seen him in years.”

 

Akina narrowed her eyes. “Who? Who the hell are you talking ab--”

 

An eerie light glew in the Violet King's pale rose eyes. “Seigo Otori. CATHEDRAL's former leader.”

 

The parrot nodded. “Yes. However, now he goes by Tenkei Iwafune. A humble member of <jungle> who took in a young child who was on the brink of death. As far as he's concerned, Seigo Otori died in the crater.”

 

The tiny spark in Akina festered. It branched out to every nerve in her body, and sent a sharp, acute tremble through her shoulder. Seigo Otori was a man with chin-length, brown hair that worked in the same building Akina had to visit everyday. Seigo Otori was supposed to be _dead_. He died either during the Kagutsu Crater, or trying to find survivors of it, among of which would have been Akina's own family.

 

And _now_ she was informed that that man never died, he just went under a new name. He ditched his responsibilities and the opportunity to save others' lives for the sake of a _single fucking person._ At this very moment, that fact became a hot spot for resentment in her.

 

“'Tenkei Iwafune'? 'Dead'? What the hell are you talking about? If he's alive, he's alive! You let him ditch his responsibilities, abandon the lives of hundreds of people, so he could take of...” She whipped over to the parrot, fixated on the King speaking through him. “Someone who would've survived regardless...”

 

The bird shook his head. “Although I do not doubt your opinion, I would like to point out there's a difference between surviving and living. As of now, I am living. Not merely surviving.”

 

Akina couldn't resist a bitter smile. “I wonder how distinct the difference is for you.” Without thinking, she moved forward, as if to approach the parrot, but that long sword of Mishakuji's stopped her short. Following the blade up to its owner, Akina noticed the unnaturally serious look Mishakuji gave her. It was an intensity completely unlike the energy she saw in him during their (one-sided) fight. With the look he gave her now, it almost seemed he was done playing games.

 

Actually, that wasn't right.

 

This guy. The parrot. The enigmatic man using the parrot. Tenkei 'Iwafune'.

 

Those three were all neck-deep in their own 'game', and had the notion that think they could drag whoever they wanted into it.

 

***

 

How long had it been since Zenjo asked her his question?

 

It felt like hours, but he knew that wasn't true. The girl in front of him stuck working with someone she could barely stand. It reflected in her eyes. No doubt about it. She didn't work alongside Hisui nor any of his Clansmen for fun.

 

In fact, now, she craned her head up, right where the Colourless King's Sword of Damocles burst into the sky before disappearing. Something akin to longing drapes over her stance.

 

She didn't belong here. This wasn't where she was supposed to be.

 

She was not an enemy. Not a genuine one. She'd been here to fight against Scepter 4 and the other two Clans for <jungle>, but she didn't listen to <jungle> for <jungle>.

 

She had somewhere better to be other than here.

 

“Akina.”

 

He spoke her name clearly, watching her for a sign that she came back down to Earth. Her eyes, blue and still clouded, never sharpened, but she at least looked at him when he spoke her name.

 

“It's none of my business, but we – Scepter 4 – have things wrapped up.”

 

He looked away, focused on the dome.

 

By the time he returned to address Akina, she disappeared.

 


	19. Kontern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever post someting because you're sick of looking at it and need to just start with a clean sweep of a chapter?  
> I do.  
> Like right now.

Akina surveyed a mess of an area. <jungle>’s lackeys sprawled across the floor, out cold, and indents of knives and fire marred the walls and floor.

  
  


Particular marks she recognised. Long, deep, immaculately straight and clean cuts in the floor. Looking around, she spotted a black stave without a user. Sukuna didn’t leave his scythe unattended for _anything_ , especially if he still had fight in him. Which he always did. While Akina’s first priority was to find Fuyu, not babysit some kid, but she couldn’t proceed clear-minded if she left Sukuna on his own. She'd be damned if she pulled something Seigo did.

  
  


She approached the rubble quietly, pressing a hand on a segment of rebar that stuck out from a large piece of wall or ceiling. Violet water gradually dissolved it into a manageable size, and she pushed it away.

  
  


Her hair stood in end. In a swift motion, she flipped to the other side of the pile, using the rebar as a source of balance. Green lightning cracked where she first stood, extending to the far wall and violently marring it.

  
  


Beneath her, Sukuna was still conscious, with his right arm trapped under heavy material. His eyes sparked with a thorny glint, leaving him with an expression of a trapped, snarling animal.

Unfazed, Akina stared at him with dark blue eyes. “You try way too hard to seem intimidating, Sukuna.”

  
  


At her voice, his anger abided, replaced by irritation not directed at Akina. His left arm pushed on the rubble on his right, but to no avail.

  
  


“I can’t this stupid thing off my arm.” He opened his mouth to say more, but cringed with a hiss. Trying to fight it off, he persisted on trying to push the large fragments off his arm.

  
  


Akina sat on part of the broken rubble, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. “From the looks of it, it was a HOMRA Clansman that screwed you over.”

  
  


Sukuna shot up, staggered by his pinned down arm. “Like hell!”

  
  


“Then who?”

  
  


“ _Douhan.”_ Venom dripped from his answer. “I _told_ you guys Fushimi would just screw us over, and he worked with _her_. She’s the one who knocked me out.”

  
  


“Huh.” Akina never pegged Douhan as the helpful type, persay, let alone put herself in a situation that could trouble her in the future. Like with Sukuna, Akina had nothing against the woman. They rarely interacted, and Akina couldn't blame someone working in the interest of money. But not doing _everything_ a spoiled King like Hisui wanted sure would trouble someone. She had to wonder who, or what, motivated her to 'defy' him like that, and for how much.

  
  


_It couldn't have something to do with Fuyu, right?_ What Akina saw was, without a doubt, Fuyu's Sword of Damocles, but she couldn't imagine Douhan cooperating with her.

  
  


“Akina. Don’t sit there staring at me, get this this off me.”

  
  


Nodding, Akina pushed the rock off his arm. Without a word, she pulled Sukuna up by his good arm, letting him regain his balance. Observing his broken arm, she started to walk away.

  
  


“I have no experience with broken arms, you’ll have to find Yukari and hope he does.”

  
  


She heard footsteps following her. “What about the geezer?”

  
  


“Scepter 4’s cavalry came in. I didn’t feel like sticking around to help a dead man.”

  
  


“You ditched him?”

  
  


“I did. I have no reason to help that man. If Hisui wanted him alive, he knows Yukari would’ve been more reliable. He tasked me with Seigo, though. Connect the dots.”

  
  


Sukuna slowed his pace, biting his lip. _“You left him?”_

  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  


Akina never looked at Sukuna. She stared straight ahead. She had no medical experience to offer, and nothing to say on Seigo’s situation.

  
  


An almost eerie silence took over the long basement corridors. She couldn’t hear any signs of combat, but tense air still resonated around her.

  
  


Rapid movement echoed ahead, and Violet Aura dripped down her hand, putting small burns into the pavement, making a point of not getting touched by the acid, Sukuna distances himself from her.  
“Green Aura would be faster to use.”

  
  


“I’m aware.”

  
  


Sukuna sighed, rubbing his broken arm. “Why are you so snippy? It’s not my fault you and the others couldn’t handle those hacks. Besides, _you_ ditched Iwa.”

  
  


Despite herself, Akina slowed her pace. “I don’t have time to body guard a washed up shell of a man, nor do I feel like babysitting. I have someone more important to meet.”

  
  


“Like who? Hisui?”

  
  


“My King.”

  
  


Vexed, Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Same difference,” he muttered.

  
  


It wasn’t, but Akina didn’t correct him. She needed to find Yukari, leave Sukuna, and go about her business.

  
  


“He was stationed a few more corridors down, but…”

  
  


A pile of collapsed ceiling blocked the two’s way. The area seemed completely abandoned. Nothing worth guarding or sticking around for, but the damages couldn’t have possibly did anything to Yukari himself.

  
  


Moving a few bits of around, Akina felt something lingering in the air. A strong, but light feeling, like drizzle.

  
  


Fuyu was here. This was where her Sword of Damocles appeared. A split second of worry zapped through, but not seeing any blood around served as a reassuring sign. She had to acknowledge that that was only on this side of the wreck.

  
  


Grabbing Sukuna, Akina phased through the wreck. The boy stumbled into the other side, but was nonetheless fine.

  
  


“I can do it myself.”

  
  


“Where’s Yukari?”

  
  


“Hell if I know! You’re the one who dragged us here!”

  
  


“Because he’s the one that’ll keep your arm from getting worse, Sukuna.” Akina scanned the area, hands in her pockets. She couldn’t wait all year for him to show, and spun on her heel. “He’s here, somewhere. Just wait.”

  
  


“Hisui is this way, where you goin’?”

  
  


“To my King, like I said. I never said Hisui was _my_ King.”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“The Knight is dutifully searching for her King.”

  
  


Yukari smiled at her, but his condition isn’t impressive. Cuts dug into his coat, with a few scrapes actually gracing his smug face.

  
  


This might be the only time Akina cared to see him. She really wanted to know who to think for rubbing Yukari’s face on his own shit, but she had an idea. It wasn’t Kuroh Yatogami, that was for damn sure.

  
  


“Sukuna needs his arm tended to. That’s not my field, so make yourself useful and get to it.”

  
  


“You’re awfully demanding today.”

  
  


“I can’t stand around playing tea party.”

  
  


Akina turned to leave, but cold metal tapped her shoulder.

  
  


“You don’t _really_ expect me to let you off? You’re only here for your King, and if she’s running around…”

  
  


“I guess whether or not you deal with me or go assist Seigo says a lot about you as a person.” Or a hellhound.

  
  


Yukari didn’t budge, but a narrowness rare for his eyes met Akina’s stare.

  
  


A feather fell between them, Kotosaka flapped about before landing on Yukari’s shoulder.

  
  


“Leave her be.”

  
  


Confused, Yukari kept Ayamachi in sight. “Isn’t that a bit risky?”

  
  


“No, this is fine. It’s best to let her play the game in her own party. Every main party has one or two that leave their side. It’s no issue.”

  
  


Game this. Game that.

  
  


_What a deluded dumbass, grow the fuck up already._

  
  


But if he was letting her leave, she’d jump at the chance. She had no interest in listening to the King and his hound argue or debate. Just ditch the scene. Hisui could find out about his ‘father’ without Akina to spell it out for him.

  
  


***

  
  


The move from Yomito Gate to Yaesu took the form of a black dog and wolf cub transporting their Clan to a large, pristine building. Neko made sure to keep them covered. She donned her usual cat form, turning Shiro and Kuroh into a mouse and dog respectively. For Fuyu and Shiki - a rabbit and wolf cub, but the two politely declined.

Shiki’s power was generously versatile in function. Swinging from building to building by altered strands of blood wasn’t anything short of disconcerting, and it certainly didn’t feel as stable as the Black Dog’s spatial hand, but it got the job done as long as he paid attention.

  
“Just a bit further, Shiki,” Fuyu soothed.

  
  


His dark eyes saw the building from the building he rested on. Imposing, cold. It felt odd thinking he really lived inside its walls with how heavy it seemed on the outside. Standing beside him with both his King and fellow Clansman, the Black Dog clearly had similar thoughts running through his mind.

  
  


Frankly, Shiki envied him. He stood without having broke a sweat whilst Shiki felt the impact of using his ability so freely sinking in. He fought off a dizzying, lightheaded sensation, watching his vision slightly tilt with great discomfort.

  
  


When he needed to, he could pump enough blood to make up for speed and raw strength, and the technique got him against Yukari and certainly allowed him to cover a decent bit of ground now, but what Shiki couldn’t change was the fact hat using his blood for this and that wiped him out, and fast. Anaemia settled in at a vicious rate, sometimes so badly that he found himself downing multiple iron supplements at a time against Doctor’s advice. He could tell this would be another instance the moment he got his chance.

  
  


He glanced at Ameno, her arms wrapped around the Black Dog’s neck. True to her cat-like nature, she noticed his staring and tilted her head with curiosity bright in her eyes.

  
  


“Could you do me a favour?”

  
  


She smiled amicably. “What?”

  
  


“I need you to make it seem like I don’t feel tired.”

  
  


Her eyes widened. “Huh?” A strange light lit up her eyes, and she seemed to shrink back.

  
  


Shiki opened his mouth to explain, but Fuyu reached up and tugged his ear. “That’s dangerous.” She looked at Ameno, rather, stared above her general direction, with warm, brown eyes. “And I don’t think Neko likes the idea of messing with people’s feelings, right?”

  
  


The girl made an odd expression, and hid her face in the back of the Black Dog’s neck with a nod. In silent understanding only shared the fellow Clansmen, Kuroh nodded, adjusting his hold on Neko to stabilise both’s position.

  
  


“I disagree with the idea as well. If you’re pushing yourself , pay attention to your limits and improve. You won’t get anywhere ignoring them.”

  
  


“Well said,” Fuyu praised. “Shiki, we’re almost there, a little rest won’t hurt.”

  
  


Shiki stiffened. “But what if pulls something?” Everything felt time-sensitive. The past few years left Shiki in constant countdown mode. The Green Clan never wasted time waiting for others to finish their plans. Why would that change now?

  
  


“They have more to worry about than following us.” She glanced at Shiro, floating patiently. “Hisui’s probably content just babysitting his battery charger, right?”

  
  


The Silver King seemed as unconvinced as Shiki. He looked ahead, amber eyes fixated on the building in the distance. “Frankly, I agree with Shiki. I’d rather act as quickly as possible.” He glanced at Neko, his expression lighter. “ Neko, remember how you tricked Kuro when he was after me?”

  
  


The trip down memory lane cheered the girl up instantly, and she nodded triumphantly. “I do!”

  
  


“Do you think you could manage something similar now?”

  
  


“Yeah! A piece of cake against those snot-green jerks!”

  
  


Shiki didn’t quite understand her idea, but looking behind him, the city distorted with uneven ground and strangely spaced streets. It looked like hell in a hand basket for innocent citizens, but to his surprise, it didn’t look like many below were affected.

  
  


Proud of her brilliant idea, Neko laughed mischievously. “I made it so all those snot-green jerks can’t walk around the city properly, how’s that?”

  
  


Fuyu squinted her eyes, but Shiki noticed her tired smile appear when she came to terms with not being able to properly see the plan. “I’m sure it’s amazing, Neko.”

  
  


“Doesn’t it work for a certain range?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Neko admitted, “but it’ll trick those guys up anyway!”

  
  


Her confidence succeeded in ebbing away some anxiety, but it still stuck to the air around them.

  
  
Gathering his strength, Shiki braced himself, once more travelling. He heard the Black Dog sigh behind him, but the swordsman soon joined him. The whole way there, he overheard Ameno’s powers shift around to suit her range, giving the group plenty of cover to work with.

  
  


“Don’t go through the front, I left my window open.”

  
  


This being the first thing Fuyu said with the building right in front of him sapped Shiki of his remaining energy. Windows were a pain to slip through while holding someone.

  
  


He obliged, but the landing was nothing short of rough. The Silver Clan had more luck, but not their King.

  
  


“You can make flashy entrances from the sky, but windows aren’t your strong suit,” Kuroh commented.

  
  


Rubbing the back of his head, the King sighed through a smile. “I was hoping I’d never have to do something like that again.”

  
  


Ignoring them, Fuyu flopped onto her bed, her face buried into a pillow. “Feels good to be back. I didn’t notice how much all that action wore me out. Being the _weakest_ King of _seven_ has its downsides.”

  
  


Kuroh made a face. “Is that really how you should refer to yourself?”

  
  


Fuyu waved her hand dismissively, propping herself up on her elbows. “Doctor did a whole theory on it. The Colourless King obtains power in ways similar to Strains, they just happen to fit the Dresden Slate’s quota for what makes a King a King. Mainy focused on biowaves. When I say weakest King, I mean it. It lies on the inconsistency of our main ability. It’s determined by 'destiny’, not 'fate’.”

  
  


“Those are the same thing.”

  
  


“It’s a 'connotation thing' to her.” Fuyu sat up, holding a stuffed rabbit to her chest. “It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t believe in either. I just know being weakest King is a _very real_ thing.”. She smiled. “That’s why the King embodying 'ambition’ is absolutely vital to my plan.”

  
  


Sitting in a chair, Shiki tilted his head. He said nothing, didn't question her, but his dark grey eyes signaled an uncertainty in Fuyu's plan. Or rather, an awareness over the unspoken risk. He didn't have to spell out to Fuyu that getting Doctor involved could be severely detrimental. He didn't want to. Given her abilities as the Colourless King, he put enough faith into her judgement to worry as little as possible. If Fuyu believed this would work, Shiki would as well.

  
  


The Black Dog didn't share his sentiment. Given how prim and proper he came off to be, he was surprisingly outspoken.

  
  


“Kameko Ryujin, the Violet King, had been responsible for this mess as much as Nagare Hisui was. For that matter, you were as well. Even if you had just been standing idly by, there's still the fact you nonchalantly watched them do as they please.”

  
  


“People change,” Fuyu dismissed. She yawned, stretching. “Besides, like I said, I'm the weakest King. There wasn't much I could do. But now our adversaries are comfortable with their current position.”

  
  


“So we strike when they feel invulnerable,” Shiro summed up.

  
  


Fuyu nodded. “Bingo. It worked for Shiki, right?”

  
  


Shiki blinked, somewhat taken aback at being mentioned. He didn't recall doing anything that related to Fuyu's point.

  
  


“Yukari Mishakuji tends to be confident in his skills. Rightfully so, I'll admit.” Fuyu slid off the bed, still holding the stuffed animal, but kept a hand free to trace along the wall. “But that's exactly why Shiki was able to handle him.” She pat his head, a large smile on his face. “But Shiki's super strong too, that's why PRiSM used to call him 'Emperor' a lot.”

  
  


Kuroh raised an eyebrow. “I don't see how a Clan based on professional founding would normally need skilled combatants.”

  
  


“Even they have their trouble with Strains from time to time. Scepter 4 and Timeless Palace usually take care of Strains, but every so often there are Strains that go after something as lucrative as PRiSM. That's why they had Clansmen like Shiki and Akina. And it's not like it's hard for them to fund things like martial arts training and the like.” She hugged Shiki from behind. “But, in any case. They're _my_ Clansmen now, _exclusively_.”

  
  


The pride in her voice made Shiki shrink in his seat, and he felt more attention on him than he was used to. She was right, PRiSM occassionally had him and Akina at the frontlines for the rare incident between the Clan and Strains, but it was so infrequent that Shiki never thought much of it as a role of any sort. He remembered how Akina referred to it as more of a 'chore'. She jumped them, Shiki restrained them. Simple stuff.

  
  


He heard bells jingling, and saw Miyabi Ameno hop onto Fuyu's bed, messing around with the collection of stuffed animals covering most of the mattress. Digging through, she found a stuffed cat, humming in approval. She jumped into a sitting position, holding the stuffed cat over her head. “So you three are really close?”

  
  


“Very much so,” Fuyu answered, “actually, Akina's been here longer than Shiki and I.”

  
  


Kuroh crossed his arms. “Why are you telling us this?”

  
  


“Because I feel it's easier to handle someone when you know where they're coming from in their ideals. That's what Hisui tried to do with Shiro, right?” She looked at the King, straightening up.

  
  


The Silver King walked to the window, tapping his umbrella on his shoulder. “I can't say I agree with how he's going on about this.”

  
  


“But it helps you put into perspective how you want to handle him.”

  
  


“More or less.”

  
  


Fuyu smiled. “Then as usual, I'm right.” She spun on her heels, opening the door. “We're on the first floor. This and the ground floor are mostly 'leisurely'. Lodgings, parlours, dining hall, the works. The sixth floor is where Doctor is. So it's a bit of a walk from here to the office. That means I have time to spill my heart out to you guys all I want.”

  
  


She gestured for Shiki to follow, and he quickly stood up to do so, walking right behind her. She had the building's layout memorised to a T, there wasn't any reason to try and guide her himself.

  
  


Scattered doors passed them in the white-coloured halls. Most, if not all of them, were rooms. Fuyu's had hers at the back end of the hall. Below them was the principal floor. In spite of its name, it held mundane rooms like parlours, a small library, the dining hall, and at the entrance, the major lobby. Becauseo f that, it wasn't a particularly crowed floor, but it'd always been under heavy surveillance. Not the place to drop in. meanwhile, the first storey consisted of just lodgings. There'd never been surveillance set up in the hall, making it the group's best bet of getting through the building undetected. Just at the end of the hall was a lift, right between two parlour rooms.

  
  


Right in front of it, Fuyu pressed the lift's up button, rocking on her heels and waiting for the doors to open.

  
  


Staring down at the floor, Fuyu slumped her shoulders. She pulled her PDA out, showing its wallpaper, a picture of her, Akina, and Shiki together. Shiki knew the day it was taken, just a few years ago, with Fuyu's hair a bit longer and Akina's shorter, near Akina's birthday in early October. She sported the same jacket Fuyu now owned, and in the background, a park in Yaesu could be seen.

  
  


“Akina's always been helping me, ever since we met,” Fuyu said. She looked at Shiki, although she'd obviously been speaking to the Silver Clan. “Shiki and I, we used to go to that Nanakanamado centre. Ive never been able to do anything fancy as a Strain, just healing minor wounds and mending bones. The main doctor there was _terrible,_ always more interested in the similarities between my powers and his. But, one day I was there, and then bam, fire and explosions.”

  
  


The lift doors opened, and Fuyu walked in first, patiently waiting for the Silver Clan, none of the three which followed up her story. They kept silent, all closely watching her with unreadable expressions.

  
  


“I wasn't hurt or anything, but it felt like there wasn't any place to go. Hmm, I guess that sounds dramatic, but... it was just me and my mother, and it was hard on her working and taking care of me on her own. Days I stayed at the facility gave her a bit of reprieve, I feel, and I was way too young to try and get a part-job. It makes everything else hard.”

  
  


It'd been HOMRA. Shiki knew that clear as day. Just by being a boy that posed as a hostage before being told by a gang to make a run for it after they incapacitated one of the facility's prominent associates. Rubbing his arms, Shiki didn't have to say that to call that 'doctor' terrible was an understatement.

  
  


He stood in the back of the lift, trying not to slump too much. He felt the onset of anaemia like a tidal wave, and he felt the heat drain from his body like he'd been dipped head first into icy waters. His head lowered with the small hope that it would minimise the dizzying feeling he knew was coming up, but before he knew it, someone's face jumped in front of his.

  
  


The Ameno girl tilted her head. “What's wrong?”

  
  


Her eyes reminded him of someone else. With her wider and brighter eyes, the semblance was a vague one, but still there. Taken aback, Shiki slowly nodded. He felt the other two Silver Clansmen stares prick into his skin, but Fuyu spoke up.

  
  


“We're almost to the office floor. There might be some people there, but don't worry about it.” She watched floors pass by with a smile on her face. Not her usual serene one, but with her straight posture and clear brown eyes, she held herself with great confidence in what she was doing. As soon as the lift stopped and the doors split open, she walked out first, waiting for the rest to follow her.

  
  


Naturally, Shiki followed, but the Silver Clan dragged their feet before matching Shiki's pace behind Fuyu.

  
  


The halls of the building hadn't changed. He hadn't been away from the place for long. Marble statues still adorned decorated them, along with the occasional Impressionist painting, but it felt... different.

  
  


Like the air divided the halls into two halves. The path to Doctor's office felt much, much longer than ever before. Walking past PRiSM Clansmen, who all remained silent, the weight of that distance pressed down on Shiki's shoulders. Even apparent businessmen sitting and speaking to one another in the well-furnished entry to a lounge room only let their eyes linger on the odd quintent without saying a word. The constant ringing of phones and rustling and tapping of clipboards drowned out any eerie silence, on the bright side. And yet, it all felt so _disconnected_ from Shiki.

  
  


Staring at Fuyu's back, he wondered if she felt the same way. With how she walked, he doubted it, but the curiosity still poked his brain. The approaching ivory-white French doors, however, left him with no time to try asking her anything. They stood at the end of the hall, with the intricate egg-and-dart moldings. The doors loomed over Shiki, made him feel smaller.

  
  


Fuyu pushed both doorknobs down. “No use standing around.”

  
  


***

  
  


Neatly organised papers flooded her desk, all from around the world. Ever since the Dresden Slate’s release, PRiSM’s globalised existence led them to be the world’s top reference for the sudden supernatural outbreaks. Terminology like ‘Strain’ and 'macro-PK’ flew right over the heads of most. All these people knew was that a five year old girl suddenly had the strength of ten bodybuilders, a pet snake could somehow fly, so then, so forth. Most cases could be relatively diffused with somehow procuring a Limiter for the Strain(s) in question.

  
  


And naturally, most reports ended in requests of how to cease the power, or harness it into something manageable. Some even thought some sort of facility be stationed globally for such beings. Such suggestions left Kameko thinking to herself: 'This isn’t a movie…’ Of course, a 'facility’ of sorts was possible, but only in the , and a short-term plan left people highly dependent on their own competence, a notion that made Kameko’s crawl.

  
  


Plain and simple, PRiSM would eventually get tired. With the world falling into turmoil because of the Dresden Slate, people avoided moving or breathing the wrong way in fear of triggering an awful accident. And with anything remotely involving power, there'd be people who soon wanted to take advantage of their abilities. Growing factions and gangs consisting of Strains. Life wasn't a movie, but people loved to pretend it was like one, so Kameko didn't dismiss the possibility.

  
  


Her Clan was large. It had global-scale connections, and nearly everyone in it had professional experience and education with Strains. And yet, the whole world developing powers meant the growith of level-5 Beta Strains as well. If _that_ happened...

  
  


Tossing papers aside, Kameko couldn't help but laugh to herself. The piling up mess the Slate went directly to _her Clan_ , whilst <jungle> basked in the glow of their precious stone, watching it all unravel. Just as Kameko expected.

  
  


She didn't find herself troubled by this. The Dresden Slate left Procession with _fascinating_ data. A few long-term Strains verified a suspicion that the released power could _amplify_ existing powers. Its rushing power could be directly felt by all existing Kings. Like an energy coursing through their veins and reverberating in their soul.

  
  


The Slate kept Procession busy, offering more and more to learn at an incredible rate. They couldn’t afford to lose such a valuable subject, especially _now_.

  
  


That said, her Clan hardly consisted of guard dogs. If Kameko had her way, Yuko and Shiki wouldn’t be wasting time fighting HOMRA and Scepter 4 Clansmen. They’d be the ones guarding the Slate. But for all of Hisui’s talk of cooperation, he deliberately left the final defence as Yukari. The - in Kameko’s opinion - least qualified to engage in this issue. He felt no attachment to the depth of the Slate’s existence. Only a shallow interest as thin as his hair and patience.

  
  


How Ichigen Miwa bothered with such a pest, she’d never know.

  
  


Another call rang through, local and low-scale. She managed to promptly clear up any worries. A promise to send what few Clansmen she had free nicely wrapped up the call, and she absently laid the PDA down on her desk.

  
  


The creak of her grand office doors caught her attention, and those lilac eyes of hers looked up, meeting deep brown eyes.

  
  


Kameko leaned back in her chair. “Well, look who we have here.”

  
  


Fuyu shortly bowed her head, wearing a serious, determined expression. Shiki stood right beside her, and behind them stood three unexpected guests. Towards them, Kameko felt no sense of urgency, no reason to be alarmed. The Sixth and Violet simply propped her chin up by her right hand with a wry smile.

  
  


“There's what one could only call a 'war' going on right now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” She waved a stack of papers. “As you can see, I don't have the time to fight. I have an actual job to do.”

  
  


“Unlike the Green King,” Fuyu added. At Kameko's nod, the teenaged girl gripped her hand on the collar of her jacket, much like a security blanket held close to her heart. A storm swirled in her eyes. She had so much to say, but her position was not one many took up. Questioning Kameko Ryujin was unheard of, it could jeopardise everything PRiSM provided for a Clansman - even Akina knew that. For Fuyu, the girl Akina essentially defied Kameko for, to be the one directly clashing agaist her actions was perfect irony.

  
  


Kameko waited for her to say something, her ears trained on the tick-tock of the clock above her desk. The White Rice Party didn't dare speak in Fuyu's place, and their King locked eyes with Kameko. The First and Seventh Kings shared the same look in their warmly hued eyes. Strong, self-assured, with deep convinction.

  
  


Nothing like the mind-numbing stare Nagare Hisui had.

  
  


Kameko fought off the temptation to push her papers away, instead nodding at the phone when it rang, answering it in front of her company. Another common class Strain issue. Rubbing her forehead, Kameko determines dispatching another pair or so to satiate the issue would be best.

  
  


“Doctor,” Fuyu began, “haven't things been more demanding since <jungle> obtained the Slate?”

  
  


“Naturally.” Kameko pulled a clipboard towards her. “Of course, that leads to a _myriad_ of information to look into.”

  
  


She knew where this was going. Fuyu trying to convince Kameko to assist the White Rice Party in retrieving the Dresden Slate. She'd use the fact that its released power piled on issue after issue for PRiSM to address, thinning out their resources on a global scale. Fuyu wasn't stupid, and she was well-versed in what appealed to Kameko – personal gain. Frankly, she hadn't a single reason to defend <jungle>, she and her Clansmen did their fair share for the Clan, and this 'defending' business should've never happened. <jungle> got the Slate, which would ultimately be _theirs_ to deal with, while PRiSM reaped the benefits of its results without lifting a single finger.

  
  


Babysitting a King hardly appealed to her.

  
  


But losing the Dresden Slate put a bad taste in her mouth.

  
  


Further, how people found themselves bound to each other by the Slate was really something. An incredible phenomena. All of them had some sort of connection to Nagare Hisui, direct or otherwise, that dragged them into his scheme. The young man whose former comrade turned into his adversary, the two Kings who shared differing intentions for the same dream, and the phantasmagoric girl who was 'similar' to him.

  
  


Hmph, 'similar'. With her stare lingering on Ameno, a frown graced Kameko's face. 'Similar' was such a vague reason, and one none too honest to boot. Perhaps it was because waxing lyrical over how the Kagutsu Crater changed their lives sounded better and more inspirational to Hisui, or that the real reason seemed too irrelevant to his plans to mention more than once, but either way, after Kameko finally prodded the real connection out, Hisui never spoke of that 'incident' again. He harboured no dislike for the 'incident', only marked disinterest, but Kameko couldn't see _why_.

  
  


With narrowed eyes Kameko sighed. “You do resemble them, in your own way...”

  
  


Tightening her hug on Yatogami, Ameno pointed at herself. “Me?” She bit her lip. “Resemble who?”

  
  


Kameko hummed to herself, absently skimming over papers. “I wonder.” She turned to the Silver King, pushing herself away from her desk and moving to the window. She leaned against the window, arms crossed. “Morality aside, you're not giving me a good reason to hoodwink <jungle> and jeopardise my research on the Dresden Slate.”

  
  


“Then what does he have to do to convince you?” Fuyu asked.

  
  


“Good question.” She was weighing her options. She couldn't antagonise <jungle> when her own Clansmen were so close to Hisui's base. But with the increasing divide between the Green and Violet Clans role in this 'new age', she couldn't see amicable relations lasting.

  
  


Fuyu puffed up her cheeks, making a brisk walk to Kameko's desk. She pulled a drawer open, sloppily dropping a newspaper and other documents on top of all the other papers. “If you're so hung up on the relational side of this, then read your own papers.” When Kameko offered no reply, Fuyu pressed on. _“Tell them_ what you know about why the crater happened.”

  
  


Just by a margin, Kameko's eyes widened. She recognised the headlines and subject matter of those documents. All either public or _private_ recollections of the Kagutsu Crater Incident. Returning to her desk, Kameko picked up a private document, reading over it in the awkward silence filling the room. Feeling the Silver Clan watch her, she couldn't help wondering what they thought they'd accomplish standing around here while HOMRA and Scepter 4 was likely still clashing against  <jungle>.

  
  


She knew the background behind Kagutsu's meltdown.

  
  


She knew very well.

 


	20. Knurren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a very special chapter dedicated to a great friend of mine, Tenseki, for her b-day! Have fun with the Easter Eggs my guy.
> 
> It's a brief, simple chapter, giving some insight on our antagonist here. Originally intended to be much longer, but I decided that this would fit in better on its own.

Fushimi and Akina's defections were unfortunate, but not surprising. From the beginning, neither of them held loyalty for Hisui. That was precisely why he came to respect them. They were, in their own right, free, malleable spirits. Nothing that <jungle> didn't advocate in the first place. Sukuna and Yukari were the same way, as was Iwa.

 

Sukuna, sporting a cast, sat in a secluded corner of the base, reaching over to a Post-it note on the wall, crumbling it up, and tossing it onto the floor like a rock.

 

Without getting to the root of the problem, Nagare got straight to the point. “Do you wish to stop?”

  
  


The boy bit his lip, sitting cross-legged. “No, but... it's just super quiet now. We were supposed to win, y'know. And even those people in PRiSM ditched.”

  
  


“Yes.” Nagare closed his eyes, taking Sukuna's words in. “You're right, but PRiSM was never obligated to stay with us the whole time.”

  
  


“Wasn't that the reason we bothered with 'em in the first place?”

  
  


“Negative. It was a tentative agreement before even you became a J-rank. They were more like summoned allies than party members. I fully anticipated their assistance to be temporary. Just as with Akina and Fushimi. To an extent, the Colourless King's involvement was inevitable. However, I admit to not forseeing her going to this extent.”

  
  


With a tattered jacket thrust on the couch, Yukari smiled. “She would be considered a 'secret mission', right?”

  
  


“Affirmative.”

  
  


He found no reason in delving on the topic. The Dresden Slate nonetheless remained theirs. Barely an hour ago, chaos covered every bit of Yomito Gate, with three Clans attempting to retrieve the Dresden Slate from and PRiSM’s clutches. And now only HOMRA and Scepter 4 remained. Even then, Strains wreaking havoc forced Scepter 4 to thin out their resources, and HOMRA’s King and No. 2 seemingly disappeared, but not before eh latter earned his fair share of battle wounds.

  
  


"This is what one calls a ‘Pyrrhic victory’.” Polishing his cherished sword, Yukari wore the slightest smile, one tinged with an unreadable light in his eyes. The fine cloth he used left a bright sheen on Ayamachi . No sound effects from Sukuna’s game, none of Fushimi or Akina’s irritated scoffing.

  
  


And certainly no sounds of a beer can being cracked open.

  
  


This was both a Pyrric victory and, in its own way, poetic justice for Tatara Totsuka. The man who raised Nagare Hisui for the better half of his life died of an injury to his heart. Listening to the Slate’s roaring, the Green King slipped into thought.

  
  


Before Iwa, there’d been another King he met in his youth. A rough, ragged man with messy red hair and aloof, sunken eyes and loose-fit clothes. A beautiful woman with mismatched eyes walked next to him holding a child.

  
  


He envisioned one fateful day, where he, his parents, and a close friend of his were on their way home from shopping. Grocery bags and purse in tow, the streets they walked on weren't anywhere near troubled territory. Something like attempted robbery had been unheard of. But in every walk of life, there are people who overlook expectations and dive in with their own intentions. A normal family and friend's best chances were to just give up their belongings to run-of-the-mill muggers, as most bystanders had no desire to get involved in trouble.

  
  


Again, there are always people who overlook those expectations.

  
  


The first to show was the woman, wearing an exasperated look whilst holding her child. She'd made a snide comment, promptly gaining the muggers' attention, and she calmly walked away, while the man approaching from behind her stayed in place, smiling. He never lost that smile, not even when the muggers got in his face, threatening him. The next thing everyone knew, the muggers' clothes caught on fire, leaving them to run in a panic.

  
  


Back then, Nagare had no idea whom Kagutsu was, but his friend recognised him as his _neighbour_ , an unmarried man living with his wife, Hazuki Ameno. Both rumoured to have connections to yakuza families.

  
  


man who saved his family and closest friend would end as the man who would kill them.

 

A family of three living next to his friend. The lover and father being the one to save another family of three and their son's friend from a coulple of petty muggers. The man who saved his family and closest friend would end as the man who would kill them. His daughter would unknowingly manipulate Nagare's friend's parents into believing she was their daughter, and it'd only be through the connections Iwa had with a powerful woman and Timeless Palace that Nagare Hisui would know of her existence.

 

 

Near-death experience aside, that might've been a major factor to Nagare's now-reached goal. A new world where everyone had the power to fend for themselves and defend themselves from harm's way, just as his and Iwa's status as Kings kept them alive, and Miyabi Ameno's powers gave her a chance at a comfortable lifestyle for just a bit longer.

 

 

And it would go on for fourteen years. To this day, right here. Where the Green and Silver Kings warred against one another for the Dresden Slate, the sole reason the Kagutsu Crater happened, with Miyabi Ameno as his Clansman. The new world already started to develop, with the Dresden Slate released and Strains appearing all over the world. To reach this moment, HOMRA lost a Clansman and King, with another Clansman severely injured just today. The Silver King lost credibility as a consequence of his year-long absence. Reisi Munakata gradually at the end of his rope and haughty reign as the Blue King. A girl nearly entirely blind just to reach her potential as a King.

 

None of those casualites measured up to <jungle> losing Iwa, and there'd been little comfort in the thought, but to back out now would be nothing short of disrespect towards Iwa's death.

  
  


Even with PRiSM's backing out, and the disorganised persistence of HOMRA and Scepter 4, Nagare did not see <jungle> failing. Not after this long. Not after this far. They would succeed, with another party together in Iwa's memory as a celebration.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to gag every time i think about nagare's thought process lol


	21. Komisch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote some of Rewrite for Indulgent Reasons so I had to take a bit of a hiatus, especially with Dust being worked on as well, but here's somethign to make up for the wait. I dedicate this to Otakumikulovinggamer4life, a big fan of this fic~

Kinfucho held not only the grand headquarters of PRiSM, but also a simple, humble, and minimalist jewellery store by the name of Azure Dragon, under PRiSM's ownership. Many of its employees had tight connections to PRiSM's Clan, whilst others were your run-of-the-mill people just making a living.

 

However, all employees today were, by no coincidence, all Clansmen or closer-knit associates to PRiSM. The war between <jungle> and every other Clan under the sun made it simpler to have Clansmen spread and grouped where needed. And more importantly, the store had been closed early, leaving Clansmen to themselves. Two Clansmen conversed together, unaffected by the chaos ensuing at Yomito Gate. A digital pad played surveillance for them to watch.

 

“I'm getting tired of all this running around. Isn't <jungle> big enough to do this on their own?”

 

“If it's what the Doctor wants, we can't complain.”

 

Another Clansman listened to their complaining, hunched over in her seat at the front glass display case filled to the brim with sparkling gemstones. She listened, kept quiet, not lost in her own thoughts, but drowsing off nonetheless. The running around was a huge pain, she agreed, but she couldn't muster up the energy to say anything.

 

Really, she just wanted to be left alone.

 

_So dang tired..._

 

She yawned, forehead thumping down on the desk. The eggplant acket she kept over her as a makeshift blanket shifted and fell to the floor.

 

_Now I'll get cold. Don't wanna lean down to get it, though._

 

Tired as she was, this was the time she appreciated her talent. She had agility and flexibility like no other, but was hardly made for fighting. Unlike Yuko and Shiki, she never had to worry about the frontlines, taking on a supportive role for PRiSM.

 

As if on cue, her phone buzzed, shaking in her jacket's pocket. Sighing in defeat, she pulled the jacket closer with her feet, streching her arm to reach in and grab her phone.

 

A single, simple message instructed her to go to PRiSM's building ASAP.

 

***

 

Kameko Ryujin spun what most knew of Nagare Hisui's tale. She had no reason to. No good reason, anyway. But she needed to fill time. Think a bit and find her own decision. She figured rehearsing the main issue's baggage would give her an idea..

 

“Just short of when Iwafune went into hiding, he contacted me about a child he came across in Kagutsu's Damocles Down. You can imagine my surprise when some eleven year old displays his identity as a _King_.”

 

Kuroh stepped forward, head held high. “With all due respect, I don’t see how any of this matters at this point.” He shifted his gaze, hesitation clear in his eyes before he nodded to himself. “It seems like a waste of valuable time.”

  
  


Fair enough. “Telling campfire stories isn’t my style either,” Kameko , “but having a fundamental idea over what has Hisui acting deluding himself into thinking this is the best plan can prepare you for how far he’ll go to prevent you from deterring him. You meet a few Kings, you get your own vision of them in your head. Become King yourself and you'll think you know everything there is to know about how you can influence others. That's just how Hisui is. If you can think on a deeper level than that, then you're already better off than he is.”

  
  


Frankly, that was a bunch of crap. She just needed to stall them.

  
  


Thinking of knowledge and influence, she saw a picture painted in her head. Something better than whatever mess of a plan Yashiro Isana thought up of.

  
  


“People around your age range, Black Dog, are some of the youngest ones alive during Kagutsu's Damocles Down, it hardly affected you, but it's different for others. Hisui's no different from most survivors.” Another image popped up. A brown-haired, average-looking boy. “His friend here was a neighbour of Kagutsu’s. If it wasn't for that small connection, I highly doubt--”

  
  


An audible, tight squeal cut Kameko off, and the image glitched out.

  
  


PRiSM’s technology is top-notch.

  
  


It didn’t just ‘glitch out’.

  
  


Pale eyes focused on Neko’s figure. “Is something wrong?”

  
  


Neko avoided her stare, shuffling in place with her heels rocking back and forth, twisting the tassels of her poncho around and around. She lifted her head enough to look at the door to the right of her. Next to her, Fuyu's expression sullened. She pursed her lips, clearly resisting the urge to blurt something out on the other Strain's behalf.

 

“Neko?” Shiro gently put a hand on her shoulder. “What's wrong?”

 

With a strong shake of her head, Neko kept her eyes tightly shut, her body trembling, knuckles white from how tightly she closed her fists.

 

Like a kitten to a thunderclap, she jumped, landing on the tile in her cat form and scurrying away, wedging her body past the partly cracked open door beyond where Kameko sat. Whatever went on in her head left her deaf to Shiro and Kuroh's calls.

 

Both of them were ready to follow her, but Fuyu caught Shiro by his jacket sleeve, avoiding his questioning gaze.

 

“I know you're worried, but...” She bit her lip, obviously not believing her own words. “We really need to settle things here, first, as Kings.” Finally, she faced him, forcing a weak smile. “This place is massive, you wouldn't know where to start looking for her. Shiki can check on her. Along with Kuroh, if that makes you feel better, but we as Kings can't get distracted right now.” She gestured to Shiki, whose dark eyes stayed glued on the door with a nod. He calmly walked to leave, but paused to look back at Kuroh.

 

Barely releasing the tension in his body, Shiro turned to Kuroh with an apologetic light in his eyes. “She's right, Kuro.”

 

“...I'm aware.” Stiffly, Kuroh followed Shiki out the door.

 

A spectator to the scene, Kameko waited a hair's breadth for order to be restored in the room, the boy's holographic photo still hovering over everyone. With only Kings left in the meeting, she at least knew she had everyone's undivided attention. She straightened up in her chair, dismissing the image. An image of Hisui replaced it.

 

“As I was saying, you're basically dealing with a man who hardly grew out of being eleven years old. Honestly, trying to change the world really sounds like something a child would do. So your formidable enemy is just channeling a bunch of repressed grief over the Kagutsu Crater into some excuse of giving everyone power. Doesn't sound as impressive in that perspective, does it?”

 

His mood sobered, Shiro sighed. “You make it sound like I'm supposed to underestimate a King with great physical power.” His gaze lingered on the door.

 

Kameko shrugged. “A child's violent lashing out is annoying, but not unstoppable. Especially when you're an immortal King.”

 

“What she's trying to say,” Fuyu rose her voice, “is to not psych yourself out. I think that's what most of everyone's been doing.”

 

Smart girl. “Your Tea Table Alliance has been too cautious.” She smiled. “Take it from a businesswoman and doctor – if you wanna take out competition, you go all out from the beginning and take no prisoners. The Dresden Slate is your profit, <jungle>'s the competition. And there's no easier way to ensure a small company such as yourself of lucrative success as merging with other savvy, small businesses.”

 

Scepter 4 and HOMRA were valuable allies, but depending on the meant allowing the White Rice Party to take a backseat from action, which clearly didn't work. And Kameko had no intention of holding the Silver King's hand with PRiSM's girth either. She waved her hand to Fuyu.

 

“The Colourless Clan isn't any larger than yours, and Fuyu's smart enough to know her Clan's limits, just like you, Yashiro Isana.” An Underdog Alliance, if they will.

 

The two Kings exchanged looks.

 

“Honestly, I don't get what she means, but she's right. If I try involving myself in your alliance with HOMRA and Scepter 4, Shiki and I are bound to get crushed by trying to get any word edgewise.”

 

Again, smart girl. She wasn't far off the mark. Well-established Clans like HOMRA and Scepter 4 had the same goal, but their tight-knit chemistry hoenstly doomed them from approaching things in a more cautious manner, which was the Silver King's approach. An understandable approach, but there's confidence and veteranship in HOMRA and Scepter 4 the White Rice Party can't match up to or keep pace with.

 

Shiro offered a defeated laugh. “I guess that's right.”

 

“But not the whole story,” Fuyu added. She stepped forward. “You don't really think that allowing his own Damocles Down counts as cautious, do you, Doctor?”

 

Of course not. “I just think it isn't necessary. Why waste the best base of defence on losing his power when we know Hisui'll be going ballistic once he finds out?” God knew he wouldn't wait for a Damocles Down to happen. He'd be after Shiro's throat in a heartbeat. Not that Kameko had any intentions of volunteering herself. “I just have a _theory_ that there's a more convenient option.”

 

***

 

Neko let her feet do the thinking. She had no idea where she was. Just ran past a dining room with no sense for the kitchen nearby and into a plain hallway.

 

She didn't know what was wrong. She saw the photo that the Violet King pulled up, and then something inside her started to chip away. She just couldn't put her finger on it, and tiny alarms buzzed off in her head that she really _should not_ go out of her way to understand.

 

A pair of voices behind her. “Hello?”

 

Blinking back the sting in her eyes, Neko turned around, meeting the sunny eyes of two girls only a bit younger than her. Both wore confused smiles, standing side by side. If not for their hairstyles, they could be mistaken for clones.

 

The short-haired one tried widening her smile, but it rending an awkward attempt. “Um, we know who you are-”

 

“-but not why you're here,” the braided hair one interjected.

 

The short-haired girl nodded. “But crying's awkward when it's out in the open.” She wagged her finger in a scolding fashion.

 

The one with braided hair held a bag in front of Neko. Polka dots and a transparent ribbon adorned the clear bag, full of what seemed to be cookies, chocolate and other random sweets.

 

“When you're upset-”

 

“-eating sugary stuff helps.”

 

Cautiously, Neko took the bag and untwisted its tie, pulling out a soft looking cookie. She sniffed it, not picking up any particular scent from it, but bit into it anyway. She couldn't say it helped her feel any better, but, for sure, it _distracted_ her.

 

In perfect harmony, the girls pointed down the hallway.

 

“If you wanna calm down on your own-”

 

“-there's a parlour nearby.”

 

“We don't think you want others to see you this way.”

 

They were right, and Neko didn't waste time wordlessly scurrying away from them. She hastily swung the door open and shut it behind her, one hand tightly clutching the bag and the other firmly twisting the lock on the door's elaborate, silvery knob. She took a deep, shakey breath, and turned with her back against the door.

 

Absently, she pulled another soft bar of chocolate out the bag, nibbling on it and doing her bet to let it somehow calm her down. At the most, chewing and eating it took her mind off of thinking. Her heart still pounded, but gradually less so.

 

Looking around the parlour, it wasn't large. It had just enough room to fit a single arm chair, side table, and bookcase. Absently, she skimmed through the books, seeing a bunch of boring titles and colours. Only one title caught her attention. She pulled out a yellowish-green book, with a black and white cat on its cover. Tilting her head, Neko picked it up the book with her free hand, slowly chewing on her sweets.

 

_I Am a Cat!_ , it almost sounded like a book about her, but reading the back of it, there wasn't anything interesting about it.

 

A voiced pricked at the back of her mind. _“I’m sure you’ll understand better when you get a bit older. And then, you can borrow this.”_

 

A cold sensation squeezed Neko's heart, so unbearable the book and sweets bag cluttered to her feet. Neko instinctively clutched her chest, and a low, choking wail escaped her lips. Heartache and panic clouded her thoughts, and the most she could bring herself to do was cover her mouth to somehow muffle her sobbing. The rest of her body trembled, and everything inside was a jumbled mess.

 

“Mama... Papa!”

 

Everything tore at her all at once. Everything she closed off her mind and heart from, each of her mistakes she only vaguely recalled reflected in Shiro's identity, that name attached to warm, loving voices that so easily washed away into scornful, fearful, hateful snaps, being rejected and left behind, the indifferent look of the stray cat... everything she closed off that led to her current state, unlocked. Years and years of her existence she kept buried deep within forced their way through into the mind of a girl that could barely recall her former name just a minute ago. An avalanche, a flood, a storm of cold, lonely, frightening memories.

 

She wanted to disappear, but she couldn't, she was too aware of herself and what awful things she'd done to that poor couple and their deceased son. She only left a half-baked, crayon-written apology when she left their veranda, but now, sitting in this parlour, she had no doubts they never saw it. No on in their right mind who comes face to face with a monster would ever think to go back to where it resided. She missed them so much. She _hated_ all that time of her life spent running around and stealing food and shelter from people. She hated not being able to rest somewhere because it was too cold or hot. She'd resided herself to loneliness out of understanding herself as a monster, knowing there was no one waiting for her somewhere.

 

For years, and years, and years, she'd abandoned sentiment like that, and only a single year of her life fathomed what it was like to experience attachment and warmth for others, and even then, it'd started as a play. She knew, in the back of her mind, she knew, that that wasn't the case any longer. The people she bonded with, and the memories she shared with them, were real, but she still saw the damage of her previous actions, like in the troubled, far-off look Kukuri always made whenever Shiro was mentioned, or just how Shiro always had to tediously insist on his name to people.

 

She didn't want to lose her bonds, but that name, _that name, and that boy's photo,_ ate away at everything she worked towards and _finally_ got. If she had to see that get taken away from her again, she'd rather disappear, or have time freeze right here, right now, with her in the small, plain white parlour.

 

She failed to notice the click of the doorknob and creak of the door, huddled into herself until a hand pressed onto her shoulder. She flinched, shrinking back, but was greeted by a friendly, feminine voice.

 

“You're with the White Rice Party? Miyabi Ameno, right?”

 

Neko refused to face her. “It's Neko!” It hurt to talk, stinging her throat.

 

The hand backed off with a distinct jingling sound. On impulse, Neko glanced up.

 

She locked eyes with a young, golden-eyed woman with messy, short hair, and skin almost as pale as her own. A silver bell swung from a thin gold thread around her neck, matching the sheen of cat-shaped earrings. The way she smiled was warm, comforting, but not without great self-confidence.

 

She leaned over to Neko,and long, lilac braids fell over her shoulders, breaking the illusion of short hair. She extended her hand to Neko. Taking her hand, Neko slowly stood up, both her and the girl's ringing together. The girl placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head.

 

“So what's with the waterworks?”

 

Hastily, Neko rubbed her eyes, doing her best to dry them of her tears. It felt awful to cry in front of a random stranger. She couldn't look to them for _real_ comfort, not like when around Shiro or even Kurosuke. Her eyes stung, hot and dry after being rubbed so much, and drove her to stare at the floor instead of at the strange girl.

 

“I'm all ears.” She laughed. “Well, maybe not all ears.” Pushing her hair back, she pointed inside her right ear, revealing light purple device wrapped around it. “I'm still a good listener, though.”

 

Neko shook her head. Talk to some random person? No way. Not with the junk going on right now. The girl took her silence well, merely shrugging with a small chuckle.

 

“Suit yourself.” She turned the door knob, her braids falling over her shoulder. This revealed a large, deep scar on her back, out in the open underneath the hem of her halter top. Before Neko could comment on it, the girl shut the door behind her.

 

Hugging herself, Neko looked around the room, plainer than it ever looked.

 

***

 

The White Rice Party had no idea what a more 'convenient' option meant, and no neither King nor vassal could question Kameko's thought process before someone walked into the room. A young woman hardly older than Kuroh drew attention to herself with the jingle of her bells. If Shiro hadn't looked straight at her, he would've mistook her for Neko without a doubt.

 

The young woman waved at him, walking up to Kameko and leaning on her chair. “So what's this about, Doc?”

 

“There's someone I need you to get.” Kameko held her own phone up, showing it to the woman. From where he stood, Shiro coldn't make heads or tails of the image, but the woman nodded, casting him a knowing glance.

 

“Is that it? Nothing else?”

 

“You're best-suited for sneaking around and getting past people. You'll do just fine with 'nothing else'.”

 

Not the least bit confused, the young woman smirked, pushing a long lilac braid off her shoulder. “Works for me. Oh and, by the way, I came in from the kitchen window, and _she's_ in the parlour down the hall from it. Are you fine letting her wander around your domain like that?”

 

“As long as she doesn't cause any trouble, she's fine.”

 

_Do they mean Neko?_

 

Shiro felt it better to work under that assumption, wordlessly messaging Kuroh the possible lead. He didn't like them getting separated during such an important meeting. He needed them _here_ , and the sooner, the better. He had no idea what Kameko had up her sleeve, but he wanted his Clansmen here for the whole explanation.

 

“Well, that's it for me then. In and out as usual,” the young woman hummed. She kept a strong stride, opening a nearby window and swinging her legs over the edge.

 

Naturally, Shiro had a sinking feeling. “Wait, this room is way too high to jump from.”

 

She smirked. “Don't worry about it. I don't plan on jumping.”

 

She slid off the window sill, and her body fell from sight in an instant. No screaming of a person falling. No crash of a body against pavement. In fact, all Shiro heard was the distant, gurgling sound of a raven's croaking.

 

“Uwaharu's a shape-shifting Strain,” Fuyu clarified, “she's the real deal, unlike Neko's illusions. If Doctor has her out doing something, it must require some stealth or careful movement. Uwaharu's perfect for that.”

 

Slowly, Shiro's concern faded. “I see.” He looked up at Kameko. “Your Clansmen really have remarkable powers.”

 

“Glad you think so.”

 

He cast pleasantries aside. “What's your 'plan'?”

 

“Sit tight and find out.”

 

He knew what she was playing at. The sort of person that gets everything up and ready to go, too late to stop by the time any explanation is given.

 


	22. Klassenkamerad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay

Ashinaka finally regained it’s composure, at least as much as it could on its current state.

  
  


Kukuri remained at the front gate, hugging herself. Although her ‘powers’ hadn’t lashed out since Shiro’s arrival, she still felt it swirling and festering in every nerve and cell of her body, heavy and harsh.

  
  


Looking around, she saw many other students doing the same. Even Sumika, always so laid-back and light-hearted, hadn’t strayed far from Kukuri, and sat with her back against the gate.

  
  


Meanwhile, 'PRiSM’ kept their word and minded their own business. A flare-up of someone’s power had yet taken root, so the suit-clad Clansmen kept their posts.

  
  


_There’s a silver lining to everything, right?_

  
  


She took a deep breath, picking the megaphone up. It seemed best to shout encouragement every now and then.

  
  


“Everyone’s doing a great job! It might be hard, but the longer we get a reign on this mess, the sooner things can go back to normal!”

  
  


How true that was, she didn’t know. Sure enough her fellow classmates knew her claim held little weight too. But she couldn’t be pessimistic. Kukuri Yukizome. The chipper student council member that dove first in to get her jobs done and help others. That was her reputation. She could not drop it and make everyone worry more.

  
  


“Kukuri, you’re incredible.” Sumika looked up at her through pin straight bangs. She pushed some out of her blue eyes. “Isn’t it weird? Just this morning I was talking about getting my hair cut. Now I’m stuck at school.”

  
  


“And I wanted to go to the new vintage store.” She really needed a new purse. Definitely didn’t need this fiasco. “We’ll make sure to go next week.”

  
  


Sumika nodded. “It’s a date.” She stood up, peering around the corner. “Looks like PRiSM aren’t going anywhere any time soon. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  
  


“What brought that up?”

  
  


Sumika held her chin in both hands. “I’m bored, and there’s _nothing_ to talk about.”

  
  


The entire school, no country, developed weird and dangerous lowers, but Sumika couldn’t find something interesting to talk about. That was Sumika for you.

  
  


Feeling her feet ache, Kukuri slid and sat down next to Sumika. “Just in first year, and you transferred from some fancy all girls’ school.”

  
  


“Fancy? More like strict. And this place is so liberal compared to it. And big.” She reached her hands out, comparing the sizes. “I was so intimidated by Chiho that she finally gave up giving me a tour and asked you to do it.”

  
  


Kukuri nodded. That was before they entered the student council. “You didn’t start saying anything until after we got to the music room.”

  
  


“It’s cool! A grand piano and keyboards? Even my school didn’t have all that.”

  
  


They lost material to follow-up, instead sitting in silence. That strange power continued swirling through Kukuri’s whole body. Heavy, dense. Like rock. Glancing at Sumika, she knew both of them were uncomfortably bearing powers they never asked for.

  
Ater all the panic died down, drowsiness set in. Kukuri kept her ears open, but her eyes started closing on their own.

  
  


“Kukuri?”

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


Sumika stood up, a stern look on her face. “Don’t move.” She crouched down, squeezing a slim arm through the gate’s bars. When she retracted it, she held something black. _and scaly._ Wrapped around Sumika’s wrist.

  
  


“Oh my god.” That. Would’ve slithered right next to Kukuri. “Oh my God.”

  
  


She’d personally take explosive powers over four metres of pure venomous muscle. She can’t look at it in Sumika’s hold, she has to close her eyes.

  
  


“How can you _touch that?_ Put it away somewhere!”

  
  


She knew Sumika’s older sister had a pet snake but that was _no reason_ to _touch one._

  
  


Sumika didn’t protest, and Kukuri heard the clunk of her boots walk away, relief washing over her.

Sumika shrieked. “Kukuri! The snake! It… It!”

  
  


Kukuri shot up, rushing to Sumika’s side. “Did it bite you?”. She examined Sumika’s wrist, seeing no bite marks. “ What happened? ”

  
  


Sumika pointed downward.

  
In place of the snake was a black cat.

  
  


“The snake, it’s that…” Sumika shook her head. “That didn’t happen because it’s not possible. I’m dreaming, this is allll a big weird dream! I’m probably asleep in lit right now!”

  
  


_Is she trying to say the snake… Turned into a cat?_ Kukuri definitely understood why Sumika didn’t believe her own words.

  
  


The cat, unfazed by Sumika’s panic, stretched, yawning with a shake of its little body. Then it started rubbing against Kukuri’s legs, meowing loud. It turned, but didn’t run away. Instead, it stared at Kukuri expectantly.

  
  


“You want me to follow you?”

  
  


“Kukuri, are you talking to it?”

  
  


“Snake-cat or not, I think it wants me to follow it.”

  
  


The cat yowled, similar to agreement. It started walking in the direction of the gym shed. Kukuri let her feet do the thinking.

  
  


When she reached the shed, the cat already ran inside. Kukuri followed suit, but a grip on her arm stopped her.

  
  


“Sumika?”

  
  


“That cat… Was _definitely_ a snake.” Although she admitted it, disbelief still flooded her eyes. “So there’s no way you get to play detective alone.”

  
  


Well, far be it of Kukuri to stop her. The two focused on the door, walking inside the shed side by side.

No snake. No cat.

  
  


Just a young woman sitting on the shed mat. Seeing the two schoolgirls, she waved at them.

  
  


“'Sup?”

  
  


“Wha?”

  
  


“Uh…”

  
  


The young woman hopped up, stretching in a way not unlike the black cat. All with the snake’s controlled fluidity.  “Flying here was so tiring…”

  
  


_Flying_?

  
  


The woman’s peculiar presence put Kukuri on the defence. Raising the megaphone up and poised to strike, she directly addressed the long-haired stranger.

  
  


“Who are you?”

  
  


She gestured to herself. “Uwaharu, at your service.”

  
  


“Why are you here?”

  
  


Uwaharu put her hands on her hips, and her necklace jingled. “Kameko Ryujin sent me.” She flipped part of her braid behind her shoulder. “To get you.”

  
  


Kukuri lowered the megaphone. “Me?” She looked to Sumika, who shared her confusion.

  
  


“I know it’s all outta left field, but she wants you at Kamego-jo,” Uwaharu explained, “but I don’t know all the details myself.”

  
  


Then why would they send her? She wouldn’t convince Kukuri of going anywhere without the full story. No way.

Sumika stepped forward. ” Was that you? The snake and cat?“

  
  


Uwaharu nodded. "I guess she didn’t want to draw attention to you. And I’m really talented at being sneaky.”

  
  


Pride emanated from her like a well-bred show cat.

  
  


_I guess she got shape-shifting powers._ Or maybe she already had them. And… She was here on PRISM’S behalf? But why? Plenty of the Clansmen already stood around Ashinaka’s perimetre. Any one of them could have informed Kukuri on some weird meeting between her and their leader.

  
  


Sumika gripped her arm, pulling her away. “Something doesn’t add up.” She glared daggers at Uwaharu. “Whatever she’s up to, a high school shouldn’t get dragged into!”

  
  


Kukuri agreed, but another part of her wanted to find out. The same part of her that the power stemmed from. She _had_ to know. Have some understanding of this mysterious group and the world’s current state.

  
  


She had. To understand. No compromises.

  
  


Sumika didn’t budge. “It’s dangerous!”

  
  


“If you’re so worried, then go with her.”

  
  


Sumika’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  
  


“Yeah. I wasn’t told she can’t bring a buddy system along for the ride.”

  
  


Way too generous and carefree.

  
  


Just like Shiro or Neko.

  
  


Like a bell, Kukuri’s mind cleared.

  
  


“Fine, I’ll go.”

  
Kukuri flashed Sumika a gentle smile. "It’ll be fine, I can tell. It’s a gut feeling.” She nodded, more to herself than anything. “And I won’t make you follow if you’re unwilling.”

  
  


Trailing her gaze to the floor, Sumika bit her lower lip. Her uncertain expression turned into a serence smile. “I’ll go. I’ll worry about you the whole time otherwise.”

 

The two exchanged wide smiles meant to encourage one another, but before the effect could sink in, Uwaharu slipped between the two, wrapping her arms around them. “Alrighty then, let's get going.”

 

She walked, dragging them along with her, but Kukuri's heels dug into the ground. She recalled Uwaharu mentioning something about not wanting to be detected, and, well, Kukuri can't think of anything more noticeable than two high school girls walking around with a woman wearing clothing a little too light for winter.

 

Sensing Kukuri's apprehension, Uwaharu and Sumika stopped. Sumika stayed next to her, but Uwaharu spun on her heel, revealing an odd scar on her back. Unconcerned, she faced Kukuri, holding her hand out. “Lemme see your PDA.”

 

Hand in her pocket, Kukuri instinctively gripped her PDA. “Why?”

 

“Don't worry, it's not like I'm gonna break it.” Her hand gestured for Kukuri to hand it to her. “It'll be quick.”

 

Kukuri stared at her pale hand for the longest time, pursing her lips. Slowly, and almost with a mind of its own, her arm gave her PDA to Uwaharu. The PDA in her possession seemed unnatural and disconnected from reality.

 

Uwaharu walked away from them, making sure they couldn't hear her, but Kukuri strained her ears, catching this and that of her call.

 

“It'll be fine... you're not that busy... We'll wait here...”

 

As soon as she hung up, Uwaharu handed Kukuri the PDA back. “Change of plans, we'll wait here a bit. I got a friend that'll make a distraction for us.”

 

“Why do you need a distraction?” Sumika crossed her arms. “You're part of PRiSM aren't you? Like the rest of those guys outside the perimetre.”

 

“The less people that know about what's going on, the better,” Uwaharu responded. She winked. “Now just sit back and relax.”

 


	23. Kostbar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as good and superior as saiyuki is can you blame me for not fucking with k in ages

Although the school buzz died down, Kukuri still felt something stirring in her, and Uwaharu seemed to amplify the sensation. She stood there with a lax smile, unattached to the sense of urgency still clicking through the air. She kept telling Kukuri and Sumika to just 'sit tight' and 'be patient' for the person she called to show.

  
  


“This is some snazzy school you guys go to. Even the uniforms look expensive, but showy.”

Kukuri nodded. Uwaharu was one to talk about showy outfits. She was wearing some striped halter and skirt in summer. Wasn't she freezing? Most of the female students _at least_ replaced ankle socks with leggings or stockings to keep warm. Besides, the outfit made Uwaharu's burn scar that much more obvious, although she didn't seem the least bit subconscious of it.

Indefinitely confident, but mysterious.

“Say, Uwaharu-”

Uwaharu held her hand up, silencing Kukuri. “Hold that thought. She's here.”

Kukuri exchanged glances with Sumika, who suddenly widened her eyes. “No way...”

  
A tall figure. A refined strut. Designer clothes. Distinctive eyes like violets. Golden-blonde hair. Heels clicking down on pavement with unmatched confidence.

“Yuko… Tamamo?”

The woman turned to her, long blond hair falling over her shoulder. A sweet smile and look. “I’m glad you recognised me.”

 _Of course_ she would. The gorgeous woman standing in front of her was Yuko Tamamo, a well-to-do model who ignited the Shibuya scene with elegant clothes and graceful movement. What she was doing at a school - with the current mess no less - went beyond Kukuri. She wasn’t much into fashion, but Sumika’s older sister found work in the field only last year, and the two _never_ stopped talking about the fashion scene when in the same room.

Yuko looked just as she did in photos and magazine covers. It was like she had the perfect look that didn't need any airbrushing. The only things standing out were the frays at the bottom of her long dress and the redness in her left eye.

Arms crossed, she tilted her head at Uwaharu. The air between them could be described as 'airy'.

“So, what's this about? I'll have you know it wasn't easy getting past all those pests.” Her gaze froze Kukuri up. “What's with the schoolgirls?”

Kukuri didn't know how to explain. Frankly, she didn't know what she had to explain. Sumika wasn't much help, gawking at Yuko Tamamo with her jaw dropped.

Uwaharu slid next to her, the bell giving away her movements. “Kameko asked I brought 'em over.”

Yuko narrowed her eyes. In photos, she always seemed so carefree, but regal. Right now, something else flickered behind that stare. She sighed, flipping her hair once more. “I'm almost babysitting someone...” She pulled a PDA out, tapping this and that, before promptly replacing the PDA with a fan. “It can't be helped. Let's go. I'll get someone to lend me their car after we get off this island.”

  
  


She walked away, obviously expecting the others to follow. Uwaharu urged Kukuri and Sumika to do just that, holding her hands behind her back. Walking with a tall, beautiful woman, and a strange woman in a striped halter and _skirt_ in winter did nothing but make the two students stand out.

“Hold it,” Sumika tugged Kukuri back. “Those PRiSM guys have the place surrounded. How do we get off. How did you get on?”

Yuko flashed a card with PRiSM's logo on it. “These guys are basically all my hounds. There's nothing I say that they won't do.”

 

***

 

 

True to her word, Yuko got the four off the island with no trouble at all. All it took was a good, stern talking to one of the more rigid members, a flick of her wrist, and out they went. Off the island, a car parked itself not far from the train station Yuko wasted no time, gesturing for the others to follow. Uwaharu made herself comfortable in the passenger's seat, stretching out with a lazy, exaggerated yawn, muttering a 'job well done' to herself.

 

_She could just fly back to Kinfucho..._

 

Yuko flipped her hair off her shoulder, and adjusted the mirror, noticing her make-up looking a bit smudged. She had to drive slowly to avoid any fights that erupted thanks to <jungle>, but now she she noticed the faults, she couldn't help but think of how uneven her lipstick coating felt.

 

She really wanted a shower.

 

The high school girls sat huddled as close to each otheras their seatbelts allowed. In the passenger's seat, Uwaharu leaned back, hands linked behind her head. Usually, she'd be looking out the window with a lethargic expression, her gold eyes indiscernible of any strong emotion; however, she looked through the windshield with a faint smile.

 

“You seem chipper.”

 

Uwaharu chuckled. “I don't much care for all the war junk, or whose 'side we're on', I just like being able to do something after months of getting no orders.”

 

“You could've requested some action,” Yuko pointed out.

 

Shrugging, the Strain shook her head. “Then it'd be like extra work.” She craned her head to the girls. “Thank god I finally got something to do. I didn't wanna stick in the building too long.”

 

Yuko rose an eyebrow. Uwaharu was never the restless type. In fact, she was the very opposite, always half-asleep when she worked.

 

“Miss Stegner.”

 

Yuko's brow quirked, but she kept her smile. Frowning would just lead to wrinkles that should could not afford right now. “Aren't you one to bring up names?”

 

With a jingle of her bell necklace, Uwaharu looked away.

 

From the back, Sumika Inaba leaned forward. “'Stegner'? I thought your last name was Tamamo?”

 

“That's a public name,” Yuko pointed out. She adjusted her glasses. “'Stegner' is my father's surname. Don't tell me you think 'Yuko Stegner' sounds like it'd catch on.”

 

Sumika pursed her lips. “Guess not.” She sat back down, hugging herself next to Kukuri. The girls, silent as ever, left the back of the car feeling heavier than Yuko cared for. She hummed to herself, tapping a finger on the steering wheel.

 

 

Sumika pulled her out of thought. “So uh... if you don't mind my asking, why's your left eye kinda red?” She leaned forward again. “It gets edited out, but in interviews on television I could always kinda make it out.”

  
  


Yuko chuckled, staring at her left eye, its sclera faintly red from old scarring.  “It’s just a little ‘scar’.  More like a tear, really.  It’s uncomfortable at times, and I’m pretty nearsighted, but I can’t be bothered to get scleral buckling done.”

  
  


“How’d you get it?”

  
  


“Let’s just say models can be pretty nasty when you first get into the modeling scene.  Especially older ones.”  

  
  


The girls gawked at her, dumbfounded by her frankness.  Smiling to herself, Yuko yawned, and left them to their shocked silence. Fair enough, she sure didn't look the type to get dragged into a stupid little fight caused by _jealousy_.

  
  


_You’d think there wasn’t an all-out war going on…_ That was, until one looked outside and saw  <jungle> lackeys causing all sorts of carnage because they thought they could away with it.  Truly, the whole scenario had been ridiculous from the start, and getting dragged into actually fighting and wasting her powers on a bunch of random people irked Yuko.  Thanks to HOMRA’s No. 2, the hem of her dress was burnt, revealing scuffed up kitten heels, and lord knew what Akina got up to.

 

That girl was a journey all her own.  Yuko understood why Akina acted as she did.  She was tough, but not tough enough to go through with impaling someone, and that ended up being the final straw for her.  After she ran off, Yuko felt optimistic with getting away.  Scepter 4 had Iwafune to worry about, she got away unnoticed without a second thought to not receiving orders to do so.  She _never_ planned on sticking her neck out if she didn’t have to.

 

***

 

Shiro lost track of time, standing in unnatural silence with the other two Kings, both his Clansmen not by his side. Kameko sat in her chair above the other two with a calm smile on her face, and Fuyu stood still, her eyes closed. Shiro only caught a small mention of her saying her eyes ached.

 

Something told Shiro not to ask how much long he had to wait. Maybe it was just Kameko's presence. The Sixth and Violet King had the uncanny ability to calm the vicinity around her. Unnerving, disarming. It was no wonder she'd been so successful in life.

 

A raven pecked on the large window, and Kameko pressed a button to slide it open. The 'raven' turned into Uwaharu, who jabbed her finger to the door. “Mission accomplished.”

 

Right on cue, the doors opened.

 

Shiro's heart instantly fell.

 

“Ku...kuri?”

 

Her olive eyes blinked in just as much shock. “Shiro?” She looked between him and Kameko, her confusion growing. She held her hands together, finally settling on Kameko's composed look. “What's going on? Why did you want me here?”

 

 

 

 

Kameko snapped her fingers, and a plainly dressed Clansman handed her a rectangular device, similar to a tablet, but considerably larger and thicker. She placed it in front of her, and with one swipe of her had, a grey-dotted map flashed into the air. After it stabilised, Shiro made out Tokyo Metro's downtown area, and the dots varied in size.

 

“Here,” Kameko began, “we have a still image of supernatural ability measurements from about thirty minutes ago. That includes everything from your run-of-the-mill Strain to betas and Kings.” She zoomed in on the dots. “People with abilities within average levels get condensed, for simplicity's sake. Each smaller dot is just the combined measurements of every five average-level person.”

 

'Simplicity's sake', huh. It made less clutter, sure, but any programming or measurements towards that must've been convoluted as hell to come up with. Shiro could imagine just how long Kameko had been waiting for an excuse to use it, or even tweak it.

 

“She rarely uses it, this is only the third time,” Fuyu spoke low, “the larger dots are individuals. _Powerful_ individuals.”

 

She didn't have to say it, Shiro knew exactly what she meant. Three of those dots were within Yomito Gate's vicnity, and another three within Kinfucho, where PRiSM's headquarters loomed over everyone. All Kings accounted for.

 

His heart sank soon after assuming such. The image zoomed in on Ashinaka Island. Where a single, larger dot stood out from the smaller ones. He heard the image change, and he closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and sure enough, that large grey dot blinked in Kinfucho.

 

“You can't be serious, Kameko Ryujin.”

 

The Violet King dismissed the the image, waving the tablet in Kukuri's direction, face void of emotion. “I have no reason to joke around.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Now then, here's how it goes:

 

 

 

Shiro stepped toward her, straining his neck to look Kameko dead in the eye. They didn’t have _time_ to skirt around some theory of hers regarding a friend who should’ve remained innocent bystanders. Yashiro Isana had his plan figured out and _settled_ , and it did not involve endangering more people than necessary.

  
  


He wanted Kukuri and Sumika to vehemently protest Kameko’s suggestion. Discard it as foolhardy and unfounded. But neither of them said anything. Sumika avoided everyone’s gaze, conflict clear in her crisp blue eyes, whilst Kukuri gave Kameko a look as unblinking as Shiro’s.

  
  


Her silence unnerved Shiro. “Kukuri?”

His friend, always ready to complete her responsibilities head on, bit her lower lip. In her stead, Kameko continued speaking, probably the worst thing possible Shiro could think of.

  
  


“There’s no guarantee you can _control_ your power, let alone hold your own in a fight, but the important thing is to make them _think_ you can.” She smiled. “That’s all there is to it. And no worries, I won’t leave you unprotected.”

  
  


Uwaharu lazily waved her hand. Her necklace jingled, and Shiro resisted the urge to look back to the doors in hope that Neko returned.

  
  


Kukuri, and Sumika, high school students and friends of his, dragged into this mess all at Kameko’s bidding. He _couldn’t_ let that happen.

  
  


“She’s oversimplifying things,” he said, “it’s not that cut and dry.”

  
  


Olive eyes darted from person to person, and Sumika clung to Kukuri’s arm, doing her best to keep distance from everyone else. With great concern, she nodded in agreement.

  
  


“Shiro’s right. We don’t have any idea about… Whatever this is over.”

  
  


“It’s about the dangerous powers erupting through the world,” Kameko plainly said.

  
  


Except to shoot a glare, Sumika ignored her. “We’d be way over our heads.”

  
  


Yes. Exactly. The two didn’t have any idea what Kameko tried dragging them into. Making them agree would be unfair and unjust. He could not let Kameko sway Kukuri whatsoever.

  
  


“Shiro.” Despite her small frame, Fuyu tugged Shiro from the centre of the room, leaving the girls alone under Kameko’s scrutiny. “I know you dislike this-”

  
  


“I _disapprove_ it,” he corrected, “you can’t reasonably drag those two into _this_.”

  
  


Fuyu nodded, and the carefree around her slowly dwindled. “I know. But it’s not your decision to make. And Doctor means it when she says she’ll make sure they’re sufficiently protected.”

  
  


Not dragging them into this would do a bang up job of keeping them as well.

  
  


Kameko crossed her leg, eyes closed. “It’s safe to assume you two have friends and family, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, opening her pale eyes. “What do you think will happen to them, to the world, if something isn’t done?”

  
  


“Kameko!” Shiro pulled himself from Fuyu. “Do you even _hear_ what you’re saying? It’s no different from Hisui!”

  
  


“Hisui waxed lyrical of his dream. I’m simply working towards results.” Her voice, as flat as her gaze, crept up Shiro’s spine. “That’s _very_ different, Silver King.”

  
  


“That’s not-!”

  
  


“I’ll… I’ll do it!”

Blurting that out, Kukuri silenced the entire room. When she noticed all eyes on her, she took a deep breath. “It’s_worse_ in other places. And people have definitely gotten seriously hurt. I wouldn’t need to watch the news to know that. Something needs to be done.” She clenched her fists, but her conviction behind a smile. “I’m part of Ashinaka’s student council… If I can do something go fix a problem, I can’t just sit back, Shiro.”

  
  


Taken aback, Shiro failed to think of a response. He _knew_ Kukuri. Once she made up her mind on something, she never backed out.

  
  


Thankfully, Sumika tugged at Kukuri’s sleeve. “Are you sure? I really don’t get what’s going on, but…”

  
  


“Positive.” Her eyes widened. “But, Sumika, you don’t have to agree with me. In fact,” she laughed, “I’d rather you kinda just… Sit back?”

Kameko shrugged. “That's fine. I don't mind giving you two a thorough run-down.”

 

With a nod, Uwaharu lifted her hand. “Same here.” She put her hands on her hips, the bow to her striped outfit slinging around when she turned to Shiro and waved her had. “It doesn't need three people to explain, though.”

 

Shiro narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

 

“What I'm saying...” Uwaharu yawned, stretching without a care in the world. “Is that you have your own Clansmen to talk to, right? This is the best time to let 'em know what's going on.” Again, she waved him off. “Go on. I saw one of 'em in our parlour. It's not far from here.”

 

Shiro opened his mouth to protest, but Fuyu tugged him away once more. “She's right, and I... have something to check on myself. You'll be on your own.”

 

Carefully, silently, she slipped out of the room.

 


	24. Können

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean it's been four months

Unconscious on her bed was HOMRA’s No. 2, Izumo Kusanagi, with his King sitting on the edge beside him. Her marble-red eyes stared unblinkingly at Fuyu, mixed between distrust and uncertainty.

Her other two guests consisted of Saruhiko Fushimi stiff in a chair, and finally, Douhan, who stood against the far wall with her arms crossed.

Smiling, Fuyu nodded her head to the woman. “Thanks for doing this.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” Her voice wasn’t modest. It was Curt, cold, businesslike. “I did what you promised to pay me for.”

The others kept silent, leaving Fuyu to open her PDA. “I’m transferring the money as we speak, Miss Hirasaka.”

With a  _ ping _ , the transfer completed. Like clockwork, Douhan checked her funds out. From what Fuyu could tell, she narrowed her eyes. “It’s in Kameko Ryujin’s name.”

_ She didn’t expect a teenaged girl to carry that kind of money, did she? _  “Of course I used Doctor’s account to complete it. She’s no Scrooge, so that small an amount will go unnoticed, honestly.”

“Why do you know her information?”

“Well, being claircognisant has its advantages, y'know.” Private information was easy to find out with just a teeny bit of concentration. It really wouldn’t hurt Kameko, and it wasn’t like she had any other means to persuade Douhan to do her the favour.

She heard someone click their tongue. Looking away from her, Fushimi wore a sour expression. “So one of the people responsible for this mess suddenly decided to clean it up?”

To be fair, Fuyu hadn’t done much of anything regarding Hisui’s scheme, but she left Fushimi’s remark untouched. Instead, she focused her attention to Anna, who kept staring at Kusanagi. He’d been given  _ some  _ treatment, most likely by Douhan.

_ I’ll pay her extra later. _

She flashed Anna a gentle smile. The King had every reason to resent her and PRiSM, it’d be unreasonable to expect her to humour Fuyu, but she couldn’t turn down assistance with Kusanagi’s condition.

“May I see him?”

Anna’s wide eyes fixated on her, but her expression was ultimately far too blurry for Fuyu to make out. With doll-like precision, she nodded, and slid off the bed without a single word.

Maybe it was the similarities between their powers, but somehow, _something_ came to terms just by being near each other. The clairvoyant capable of seeing deep down a person’s soul, and the claircognisant capable of knowing anything as she pleased.

Not that that mattered right now. From Fuyu’s hands, a mixture of coloured light emitted from her hands, forming a ring around Kusanagi’s wound.

She didn’t know how effective her Strain ability would be with her power as a King overshadowing it, but she’d take advantage of the Dresden Slate’s power if it helped her sway more on her side.

Even though the bandages covered the wound, Fuyu could still tell they healed up nicely thanks to her. It came to her instinctively, naturally.

Unimpressed, Fushimi scoffed. “So what was with this sudden change in heart?”

“I’m sure your Clansmen wonder the same.”. Fuyu smiled. “And I’ll take from your attitude that you don’t need your knee treated properly?”

The man looked away with a scowl. He sure was stubborn, but Fuyu couldn’t help lash out at him given he made it so easy to.

Besides, she had better things to do than humour bitterness.

She put a hand on Anna’s shoulder.

“Your Clansman will be fine now, I promise.” She bit her lip at Anna’s silence, but pressed on. “I’m… Aware any sort of apology won’t cover much of anything. When it comes down to it, I… I let this happen. And I won’t reason my way through that, but… Anna, you have to take my word: I’m on your side.” She squeezed the young King’s shoulder. “Someone very dear to me’s been hurt for a long time. When it comes down to it, I want to save her. That’s the whole reaso

The whole reason I’m even trying. But I can’t help her without helping you guys. We don’t have to be allies, just please help me help her. If we defeat , I’m sure I can help her.”

Any rational idea, elaborating things and bringing up PRISM’s cooperation with the White Rice Party, it all didn’t matter. Anna was a smart girl anyway, she’d know right away Fuyu was just putting on airs.

“Anna,” she continued, “I promise nothing will happen to HOMRA anymore. If PRiSM plans anything funny, I’ll know. And I can tell you right away.”

Please just agree. Please just agree. Her guardian was bleeding out until Fuyu helped, she  _ has  _ to at least consider it.

“I won’t.”

Fuyu’s heart sank to her stomach, but she kept listening.

Anna slid off the chair and went to the window. Pulling out a marble, she looked outside. “I won’t trust you. I know you’re not lying, but for my Clan, I won’t trust you. You’re not the enemy, but… They’ll still be on edge. I don’t want that. And the person you want to protect has hurt people  _ I _ want to protect.”

She lowered her hand. “But… We both want to defeat , and have loved ones to protect. Every second counts, so, for now, I’ll extend my hand to yours. But not my Clan.”. She looked at Fushimi, then back at Fuyu. “And I’ll make sure Reisi does the same.”

Shw didn’t have to. Fuyu had no expectations of the Blue King giving her the slightest word in edgewise. He couldn’t afford to, given his condition. Please, she doubted Fushimi listened to a word either King said.

Still, she wouldn’t argue. “Anna, thank you. And you as well, Miss Hirasaka.”

 

The stoic woman shrugged, making her way out.  “I did the job I was paid for.  I’m going.”

 

“Back to <jungle>?”

 

“They’re not worth the hassle.”

 

Fuyu cast a smile.  “Then take care.”

 

The clicked shut, leaving two Kings and two subordinates alone in the stark white room.  Since Anna mentioned speaking to Munakata herself, Fuyu had nothing to say to Fushimi, really.  He was free to stay and recuperate, but knowing him, he wouldn’t stay long.

 

Actually… Fuyu didn’t want to stay long either.  Anna’s stare weighed down on her.  It should be illegal for a girl her age to have such powerful scrutiny.  It practically screamed at Fuyu to leave her alone.  For all Anna’s cordial behaviour, the Red King still had a habit of bottling every fiery emotion in and letting it fill a room till it burnt down.

 

Her PDA pinged, answering her prayers.  She excused herself, not yet checking the notification before she left the room.  She didn’t stray too far, leaning on the wall near her closed door.  

 

Scanning her PDA, she squinted her dark brown eyes with a sunken heart.  In her eyes’ condition, she really needed to re-think its formatting.  In fact, she couldn’t make out the number it came from, so only God knew if she’d recognise it.

 

_...I can barely read anything, much less a PDA screen.   _

 

Impatience tempted her to just ignore it, but the second it returned to her pocket, a very distinct, very specific ringtone played.  One she used for only one person.  She hesitated, heart racing and mind exploding.  It felt like she answered the call against her own wishes, soon touching the PDA to her ear.

 

_ “Is this easier?  You know I hate talking on the phone.” _

 

“Uh…”  That voice was Heaven.  Could people think clearly in Heaven?  Fuyu didn’t think people needed to think in Heaven.  “Where-”

 

_ “I’m on the roof.  It was a real pain to get here undetected.” _  Wind buried the voice, but Fuyu heard light laughter..   _ “Try and get here fast.  We have a lotta catching up to do.” _

 

***

  
  


Kuroh Yatogami came to the conclusion PRiSM had far too grandiose a domain for his liking.  He admires the pristine condition and marble art placed through every hall, but it did him absolutely no favours in trying to find Neko.

 

He knew she liked heights, but thus far the upper floors had no sign of the girl.  Just Clansman after Clansman.  All of them Strains young and old.  Like a hotel for them more than a conglomerate.  Worse was the floor he had absolutely no access to.  A floor dedicated to PRiSM's actual business, not just their supernatural involvement, blocked by employees allowing him no access whatsoever.

 

_ Neko could get past them without a problem. _  All she had to do is cast an illusion and she'd do as she pleased.  If she reached that floor, it'd make finding her all the more difficult.

 

God, what went through her head right now?  She ran off without the slightest explanation.   _ Something  _ the Violet King said bothered her.

 

Kuroh shook his head.  He knew exactly what that 'something' was: the name 'Miyabi Ameno'.

 

For over a year, he knew her as 'Neko'.  Naturally, he questioned her lifestyle several times, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised he never questioned her name.  It'd be ridiculous for 'Neko' to be her birth name, but after all this time, it felt like the most natural part of her identity.

 

Identity.  Kuroh seemed to have a knack for befriending people with issues about that.  But after her reaction to him asking why she acted like a cat, he filed Nell's issues away out of respect for her comfort.  Digging into old wounds and bitter memories didn't set well with him.

 

Now, however, he felt like he wasn't given the option.  He might not  _ want  _ the options.  What he'd say to Neko once he found her, he had no idea, but at this point he knew she had  _ something  _ to face before going back to her usual carefree self.  Something chaining her down.  It might have always chained her down, the core root to the few doubts she exhibited that, more and more, manifested themselves lately.

 

He stopped walking and pulled out the voice recorder.

 

_ Watching the stream _

_ Understand what brought you here _

_ Like the water's ice _

 

Do not stand idly by without knowing how you got there.  Kuroh's heart swelled at Ichigen Miwa's sound advice.

 

His moment of peace ended when he felt someone bump into him.  When he turned to see, it took a second to notice he had to look down a bit to meet two pairs of lively amber eyes.  

 

The girls, identical in appearance minus their hair, both flashed friendly, yet oddly...  _ knowing  _ grins.

 

The short-haired one waved.  "Sorry about that."

 

"We weren't paying attention," the braided one added.

 

They might as well share the same exact voice.  PRiSM had kids this young amongst their ranks?  With HOMRA's own young King, Kuroh shouldn't be surprised.

 

He pushed curiosity down and nodded.  "I wasn't attentive myself," he admitted.  

 

The girls giggled and huddled next to each other's. Against his better judgment, Kuroh asked what was so funny.

 

"It's just that-"

 

"-you're too formal."

 

He didn't know how to feel about getting jabbed at by twins upholding the 'finish each other's' sentences act.  Given their age and his experiences with Shiro and Neko, he ignored such implications.  He had to find Neko before anything else.

 

The twins did not take the hint.

 

"You look like-"

 

-you're looking for something."

 

They looked at each other, both of their smiles widening.  "Or someone!"

 

Kuroh looked away from their matching stares.  "I am, yes.  A girl with long hair and a yellow poncho, have you seen her?"

 

The girls hummed to themselves and nodded.

 

"Sayuri gave her some sweets."

 

"She looked upset when we saw her, Ren thought."

 

"Do you know where she went?"

 

The long-haired one, Ren, nodded.  "Yup, we do, but better yet-"

 

"-we can take you to her instead of telling you."

 

Kuroh shook his head.  He appreciated the help, but that wasn't necessary. 

 

The twins each clung to his arms, and before he knew it, he found himself standing in front of a plain white door.  The twins released, smiling triumphantly with uniform salutes.  

 

"Teleportation a success!  You are-"

 

"-very welcome!"

 

Just like that, they teleported away before Kuroh had so much a chance to make sense of what happened.  He looked to the door, supposedly where Neko his herself.

 

Now that he made it here, it didn't feel right to barge right in.  Yet if knocked, the chance of Neko responding dwindled the longer he lingered.  How was he supposed to address without a  _ single clue _ as to what she went through right now?

 

He heard nothing in the room.  Not a good sign when involving Neko.  He bucked up to turn the knob, but she must have locked the door.

 

He sighed.  "Neko?"

 

No answer.

 

As easy as it would be, Kuroh  _ really  _ didn't want to damage the door just to unlock it.  Not yet, at least.  He jimmied it, to no avail.  Twisting it more, he came to terms with the doorknob’s fate.  With just a little extra applied strength, the lock snapped.  For such a grand building, the fact the doorknob didn’t snap off completely seemed fitting.

 

Opening the door, the parlour room matched the rest of the building.  Endlessly white, to a dreary degree.  It made everything look too spacious, and only one figure added any colour to the room.

 

Stuck in a tight little ball, Neko kept absolutely still, face buried in her knees and hair wrapped around her body like a blanket.  Next to her feet was the novel _ I Am a Cat! _ with its jacket worn out at the seams.

 

Careful not to alarm her, Kuroh picked the book up, sliding it into an empty space in the bookshelf.  He crouched down in front of Neko, biting his lip for inspiration on what to say.

 

"Whatever happened, carrying the burden on your own won't make you feel better."

 

Rather harsh, generic advice, but anything deeper would just come off as artificial.  Neko didn't budge.  Rather, she tried to hide further within herself.

 

With a deep sigh, Kuroh cleared his throat.  "Neko-"

 

The door swung open.  A tall blonde waved a PDA in her other hand.  Between her height, broad shoulders, and noticeable scleral scar, Kuroh recognised her as PRiSM’s aerokinetic.  

 

"Get a move on."  She glanced at Neko, shaking her head.  She pulled a round, yellow fan out. "Kameko wants everyone together to discuss something."

 

"Discuss what?  How’d you find us?”

 

“That would be-”

 

“-’cos of us.”

 

The twins reappeared, well-hidden behind Yuko’s figure.  Neither of them wore an inch of remorse on their face.  Proud of leading Yuko right to them when they knew Kuroh wanted some privacy from their nosiness.  

 

Yuko pat Ren, the long-haired twin, on the head, before waving the twins to give her some space.  "She and Shiro have an idea for the next plan of action.  You're the Silver King's only Clansmen, so we need to get going."

 

With Neko’s mental state?  Kuroh will take his sweet time, thanks.

 

“Give me a few minutes.”

 

Yuko crossed her arms, fanning herself.  Her violet eyes panned to Neko’s small figure with a sigh through her nose.   “Honestly…”  She muttered something about her hair.  It reminded Kuroh, just barely, or Yukari’s own vanity, but something about this woman’s stemmed more from the ‘war’ going on, he could tell.  She flipped hair off her shoulder, turning away.  She left, leaving the door wide open.

 

“Ren, Sayuri, let’s go.”

 

Ren pouted, Sayuri mimicking her.  “But why?”

 

“We came here ‘cos you asked where they were!”

 

Yuko nodded.  “And now I know.  And I did what Kameko asked me to..  Leave them be.”

 

Hesitating, Sayuri poked her head back into the room, only to have Ren tug her away.  

 

“So, Yuko…”

 

“...what do  _ we  _ get to do?”

 

Kuroh only heard this short exchange, Yuko’s answer muffled by distance.  

 

_ Nothing about how they are here reflects their Clan’s actions.  _  They avoid accountability like no one’s business.

 

Soon, he and Neko found themselves in silence once again.  The girl refused to move, practically frozen solid.

 

He’s seen Neko despondent plenty of times during their search for Shiro.  But she rarely, if ever, needed him to be the one to snap her out of it.  Now he landed in uncharted territory.   _ What  _ was he supposed to  _ say? _

 

He looked out the room again, completely empty and as stark-white as ever.  Whatever ‘meeting’ the Violet King had in store, it wouldn’t wait for Kuroh to think of something to say to Neko.  The most he knew was that the name ‘Miyabi Ameno’ set poorly with her.  Almost like she  _ hated  _ it.

 

Why she became a cat.  How she lasted so long as one.  A myriad of mysteries surrounded this loud-mouthed, energetic girl against all odds.  At a loss, he reached out and pat her head.  One of the few things not food-related that often soothed her.  

 

“Whatever’s going on, wouldn’t it be easier to deal with alongside Shiro and I?”

 

She flinched and shook her head.  Huddling further away and tightening up the ball she hunched herself into.

 

God, this shaped up into a disaster real quick.  “If it’s ‘that name’ everyone’s mentioning, it shouldn’t bother you.”  It sounded bad, but fitting.  Shiro accepted his identities, one given to him by Neko herself.  That was no reason for others to force something - someone - onto Neko.  “If you’re not ‘Miyabi Ameno’, then-”

 

“...I’m not.”

 

Her voice came in, a whisper, if anything.  “I’m Neko.”  She clutched the tassels of her poncho, finally exposing her face.  If possible, she looked paler than usual.  “I’m supposed to be Neko.”  She looked to the side, where the book was.  “I don’t want to be ‘Miyabi’ anymore.”

 

“Neko, what on Earth happened?  What do you mean ‘anymore’?”

 

Against his better judgement, Kuroh stood.  He tugged Neko along by her shoulders, to which she numbly complied, staring the floor down.  Whatever upset her, staying where she broke down wouldn’t help.  Part of him hoped her usual cat-like mannerisms would kick in.  That the ‘meeting’ would distract her and reset her mood.

 

He led her out, slowly.  Neko’s gaze still lingered on the room.  Where Kuroh found the book.


	25. Kollaboration

PRiSM’s terrace. Against all odds, succeeded in being just as stark white as the building’s interior.  No amount of winter wore down the white furniture and glass tables dotted about.  Seemed more like a tea party than normal terrace decour.  A glass lift the only entrance and exit in the far back.  

 

Artificial, nothing that impressed Akina.  Especially now.

 

Up here, the breeze was gentle, quiet.  The polar opposite of the stifling air in <jungle>’s sorry excuse of a base.  She could _breathe_ here.  

 

Behind her, the glass lift to the terrace pinged.  Its doors slid open, and - finally - Fuyu faced Akina.  

 

For a moment, only silence.  What was Fuyu thinking to herself?  How did she feel?  Was she excited, or nervous?  She walked towards Akina slowly, and the latter kept absolutely still.  Like she was trying to approach a bird without alerting it.

 

She felt more like an excited puppy greeting her favourite person in the world.  

 

Fuyu _jumped_ at the chance to hug her, and her fingers messed around with strands of her deep-purple hair.  “It’s gotten really long.  You haven’t even trimmed it, have you?”

 

“No time.”

 

The two gravitated to a round glass table on the roof, but only Fuyu sat down, resting her head on the glass with a dreamful sigh.

  


Another laugh.  Airy and dismissive.  “Just a perk of being the Colourless King, I guess?  I mean, when you think about it, Kings always have a ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ power.  Doctor’s acidic Aura and her calming presence.  The Silver King’s inviolability and anti-gravity.”

 

Frankly, Akina never thought that deeply about it.

 

Fuyu drummed her fingers on the table, and her smile turned to a pout.  “But, really.  ‘Colourless King’.  How lame is that?  There are waaaaaay better colours the Slate could’ve conjured or whatever, I’m sure.”

 

Amber King?  Onyx King?  Whatever.  Leave it to Fuyu to make Akina actually consider alternatives.  “It could have been worse.”  She went to run a hand through her hair, briefly puzzled by its length, or rather, lack thereof.  “Imagine being something like the ‘Grey King’.”   

 

Fuyu tilted her head, chuckling.  “Isn’t that basically the same thing?”  

 

Shrugging, Akina pulled a seat out and sat down.  Again, she felt the distinct lack of weight on her head and shoulders,, offering the water fountain in the roof’s centre a dispassionate huff.  “I never thought I’d appreciate how _tacky_ this garden looks.”

 

She always stuck to one corner of <jungle>’s base.  Usually the washer.  Separate from the other four.  And only spoke when spoken to, and even that she hesitated in.

 

Being stuck in the same place as _Seigo_ might have been the most suffocating part.

 

_Is he even alive now?_

 

Since <jungle>, she always pegged him as the type to die after the slightest snag inhibited Hisui’s ‘dream’.  He claimed he ‘died’ in the Kagutsu Crater - the same probably went for Iwafune Tenkei after today’s fiasco.  

 

_Spineless bastard…_

 

“Akina?”

The Strain released all tension with a sigh.  What a dumb time to linger about that now.  She stood up, and shoved her hands in her shorts’ pockets.  “Who I didn’t and did get along with doesn’t matter now.  They’re all enemies.”  Even if the kid had nothing to do with the attack on the antique store, he dug himself a hole into that freakshow King’s fever dream.

She left for the roof’s door, but Fuyu held her back by the wrist.

“You _know_ people you’ve fought are down there.”

What else is new.  “It’ll be fine.  I won’t say anything unless I have to.”  She tried to pull her wrist away, but Fuyu moved ahead, tugging Akina along.  

“You better.”  She was stern, but Akina caught a glimpse of her smiling.

She tugged Akina through the top floor, making a beeline for the first lift available.  It was just the two of them, without a single Clansman in sight.  Given… certain circumstances, Akina guessed the vast majority of anyone that mattered in this building kept their eyes on the ‘meeting’ going on.

Fuyu had every right to be cautious.  It wasn’t like Akina made herself popular amongst the other Clans.  Hell, she didn’t have it in her to consider them ‘allies’.  They just had a common enemy.

Hmm… maybe ‘enemy’ was too strong a word for someone like Hisui.  ‘Eyesore’ fit nicely.  Like an annoying little spec on one’s glasses that they desperate tried to wipe away.

She smiled in what felt like ages.  To herself.  Privately, quietly,  a personal smile  at j;ust the thought of shitting all over that freak’s life.  She rested against the lift’s glass wall, closing her eyes and listening to its revving.  Way better than the ongoing screech of a toy airplane or crashing of a cheap washer.

Definitely better than the click of opened beer cans.

She could fall asleep at this rate.

Fuyu nudged her, and she heard the lift doors slide open.  Ahead of her stretched another hallway with artwork and bleached lighting.  Nothing inviting nor warm to its grand allure.  The warmest part of it was Fuyu’s company, and even she looked straight ahead without looking back.

It felt like fish swam around in Akina’s stomach.  Was she nervous?  

She sighed through her nose, arms crossed.  Shaking her head, she appreciated not having any hair weigh down her vehement denial.  No way in hell was she nervous.

Again, Fuyu nudged her, and tugged at her hand, making sure Akina followed.

 

***

 

Kusanagi recalled excruciating pain and absolute numbness.  End of story.  Hell, he didn't remember _passing out_ .  Although, knowing how HOMRA's... 'luck' went, he knew at least a sliver of him anticipated taking shots with _those two_ in whatever unfortunate afterlife had to harbour them.

 

Seeing a pristine white ceiling and shifting around in a bed with sheets far too exquisite for a normal person, as a result, came off as anticlimactic to the man.  Even the pain in his abdomen buzzed little more than dull and aching, and far from debilitating.  It felt more like he drank cheap alcohol than getting stabbed and bleeding out profusely.

 

_Guess it's an improvement over dying in the streets._

 

He cocked his head enough to soy Anna sitting at his bedside.  Her marble red eyes and composed frown couldn't fool him - she worried her head off over him.

 

With a grunt, he sat up and Pat her head with a smile.  She turned, watching him with tired marble red eyes.  She had her usual amount of composure, but worry and exhaustion clearly dipped her in their hues.

 

"Don't s'pose you can tell me what's going on?"  This ritzy place sure as hell couldn't be any of the boys'.

 

Anna bit her lip.  "PRiSM."

 

Sorry, Kusanagi must have heard wrong.

 

Anna shook her head.  

 

Judging by the fact nothing was burnt, they weren't necessarily hostages or anything, but it certainly wasn't her first idea (let alone choice) for assistance.

 

But PRiSM? He knew better than to consider them a glorified extension of <jungle>'s lackeys, but, hell, Hisui wasn't the sort of King you could carelessly antagonise.  So what possessed them to help HOMRA?

 

He raked a hand through his hair and sighed.  "Sure is a lot to take in after knocking on death's door."

 

"Are you alright?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine."  A little sore, but he could deal with it.  Actually, why was his wound practically healed entirely?  That sword definitely didn't just graze him.  

 

"I'm assumin' they got themselves a Strain that can heal?"

 

Another complicated expression, and before she can clear her thoughts, a PA system crackled with a hollow ring.  Two voices hummed over it in unification.

 

"Testing, testing!"

 

One voice spoke.  "All personnel to the fourth floor!"

 

"And all participating Clans to the fourth floor as well."  At the second voice, a digital map popped up in the room marking a lift's location.  

 

"And that-"

 

"-is all."

 

_'Participating Clans?'_

 

Kusanagi frowned, his attention still  on Anna.  The girl already slid off the bed and kept her eyes on the door.

 

_She's sure on a mission._

 

He shifted to get up, a large part of him weary of getting too comfortable with the whole miraculous recovery thing, but he paused in the middle of standing at the sound of an irritated sigh.

 

At the window, Fushimi went almost entirely unnoticed by Kusanagi, and without a word the young man walked past him and Anna and out the door.  Anna kept an eye on his back, noting his slight limp but nothing to say on the matter.  

 

Well, no use lingering on that.  He put a hand on Anna's shoulder, now standing properly, and ushered the little King out the door and to an _abundance_ of absurdly clean white walls and carpet and artwork lining the whole stretch of the hall.  

 

PRiSM really took the piss with their Clan's 'theme', whatever it was to them, and the white made it feel cold and closed off.  Of one could hollow out a marble statue, this no doubt resembled what they'd see.  Maybe they wanted it that way.  Maybe it felt different to them.  Who knew.  The only non-white thing was the lift, and that was only because it was crystal clear glass on all sides.

 

Fushimi stood with his back against its wall, arms crossed and eyes closed.  It didn't take a genius to notice how he made subtle efforts to keep a majority of his weight on his good leg, and lucky for him, this was the world's smoothest lift ride, and even its revving hardly made it above a gentle low hum.

 

When the lift doors opened, his hand returned to Anna's shoulder.  She could handle herself, but after years of keeping an eye on the girl, old habits die hard.

 

 _Especially_ when you're about to have a little tea party with who _should_ be the enemy.

 

The oppressive feeling from the hall all but dispersed, replaced by an ethereal sense of ease and calm.  If the hall was walking inside a marble statue, this floor was running your hand across the ornate details of it.

 

The end of the long hall expanded into a large, round room chock full of people.  PRiSM's King sat in a chair, legs crossed and her pink-coloured eyes on documents in her hand.  On either side of her stood a pair of smiling twins and tall aerokinetic Strain that clashed against Kusanagi back at Yomito Gate.  Off to the side, a confident-looking woman with golden eyes and lilac braids.

 

Behind them stood more Clansmen, most ranging from the twins' age to the blonde's.

 

Needless to say, PRiSM was huge.  Arguably, it had the largest collection of formal Clansmen, with Scepter 4 and Timeless Palace rivalling it.  As in this Clan had its fingers dipped into nearly every crook and cranny of Japan.  With its epicentre being Kameko Ryujin.  It wasn't any surprise <jungle> extended its plan to the lucrative machine PRiSM grew into.

 

To make matters more interesting, the White Rice Party stood opposite of Kameko's group, notably stiff and clumped next to each other.  And, for whatever Kusanagi was too tired to think of, two Ashinaka students right next to them.

 

For most any normal man, this would be the moment they'd flick a lighter and inhaled cigar smoke as deeply as possible before getting their knees deep in whatever weird shit lay ahead of them - but for the first time in a youthful 27 years, Kusanagi _really_ did not feel like taking a drag.

 

_It's killin' my lungs anyway._

 

Not to say the room felt tense.  Not completely so.  That odd calmness still forced itself into everyone's senses and clamped down the worst of unease down.  And, standing where he did, he could tell it all happened thanks to Kameko.  An air of calmness that spread to everyone in her vicinity.  Calm inducement.

 

Everyone could use it, to be fair.  And call Kusanagi biased, but he'd take that over Munakata's overbearing haughtiness any day. It didn't surprise him not to see the Blue King.  As 'sensible' as he was, he wouldn't be caught dead in the same room as the King who bested him back on Christmas Eve.  Let alone any scheme dragging a couple of schoolgirls into an all-out war between Clans.  Let alone the Silver King, whose plan that day miserably failed.  Let alone the kid that turned his back on not one, but now _two Clans._

 

Besides, him and Kameko in the same room ran risk of freezing Hell's rivers.

 

No one said a word, all eyes on Kameko, who sat with a faint smile, still skimming through that stack of documents.

 

Instead, her blond companion leaned over to her, violet eyes running through the crowd.

 

"Fuyu should be here by now."

 

Undeterred, Kameko tilted her head towards Narcolepsy in the corner.  "Any idea where your King is, Shiki?"

 

The boy shook his head, seeming to hide more of his face in his scarf and averting his dark grey gaze from anyone.

 

"Then it's a good thing she's the Colourless King."  Kameko smiled, leaning back in the chair.  "And in brighter news, we have HOMRA's little King."

 

Anna stiffened, betraying her controlled stare.  "Is now the time to speak to me like that?"

 

"No."  Kameko shrugged.  "So then, shall we get to business?"

 

Another of her holographic images appear in crisp, sharp quality.  A map of everything from Yomito Gate to _inside_ <jungle's> base.  Not that there was much to look at.  A sad looking abandoned car park dump and nothing more, really.  

 

Kameko zoomed in on the street, and Scepter 4 and PRiSM's logos popped up.  They rotated, but just like that, the map froze.

 

“Wait.”  Anna stepped forward.  “I need to let-”

  
“Munakata know, right?”  Kameko shook her head.  “It’s not like he’ll agree if given the chance to mull it over.  Now, as I was saying, shall we get to business?”

 

***

 

No one could agree on anything. Seemed inevitable Kameko took advantage of that, reigning everyone into _her_ pace.  
  
  


But this plan went _beyond_ logical. _Especially_ for those two schoolgirls. Harbouring ‘potential’ or not, it wouldn’t do Kukuri any good involving herself in Hisui’s schemes.

  
  


Kusanagi couldn’t speak doe the the girl himself, but he knew hesitation when he saw it. And the way Kukuri avoided everyone’s stare and backed further next to her friend…

  
  


“You’d think there’d be more emphasis on keepin’ her safe.”

  
  


He only muttered the remark, but Anna nodded. No, not only that, she straightened up even more - if that was possible.

  
  


“We can’t drag them into something that dangerous.”

  
  


Sumika, still clutching Kukuri’s arm, pursed her lip. She whispered to Kukuri so not even an echo could expose her. Kukuri nodded, sharing her unsure stance.

  
  


“You can hesitate all you,” Kameko hummed, “fact of the matter is if you don’t do something, the Silver Clan risks more danger than necessary.”

  
  


Kukuri stiffened, her olive eyes glued to the floor.

  
  


“Then there’s the fact the alarming increase in Strains may harm family and friends in the future if we don’t nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

  
  


She clenched her fists.

  
  


“I'm sure questioning the plan made by the currently longest surviving – and functioning – King shall go as you want it.”

  
  


“I'll do it!”

  
  


Kukuri couldn't take her words back, impulsive as they were. The second she snapped at Kameko, she sealed the deal. No turning back. Not even for her friend. Kusanagi couldn't help but grimace in her place. Getting dragged into this... war. A couple of high school girls that should've been able to just study the day away and not face off against some freakshow King.

  
  


“Seems like everything's been settled.”

  
  


The dry voice came from behind the crowd.

  
  


The first thing Kusanagi noticed was the scarred shoulder, like lightning painted itself on the skin. There wasn’t a single doubt who Kusanagi saw. That same dark skinned girl with piercing eyes.

  
  


Almost as piercing as the sword she rammed into him.

  
  


He didn’t linger over how Akina got in undetected, her scowl contrasting Fuyu’s serene smile and made it impossible to stare for longer than a few seconds.

  
  


Fuyu waved. “Sorry we're late.”

  
  


Kuroh tensed. “Why is _she_ -”

  
  


“That's, um a long story. But a good question.” Fuyu laughed, looking side to side. “Basically-”

  
  


“A better question would be why you suddenly switched sides.” Kameko’s voice soothed the tension. Although she finally made sense, a lull to her voice detached her from her own comment. Pale, rose pink eyes turned their attention on a shorter figure standing between Akina and Shiki. “That is, if I didn’t already know. So then, I guess this explains your tardiness, Fuyu?”

  
  


Fuyu smiled, stepping ahead of Akina and Shiki. “I’ll get right to it: the Colourless Clan, _Pandora_ , intends on joining the alliance.”

  
  


Kameko picked up a clipboard, offering little more than a vacant stare. “ _Pandora_?”

  
  


Fuyu nodded. “The name for the Colourless Clan.”

  
  


“Named after someone who unleashed woe upon the world?”

  
  


“The last thing released was hope. Against what Hisui released to humanity... that's what I want the Colourless Clan to strive for.”

  
  


Kameko laughed. “I see.” She spun a pen between her fingers. “Then it appears the White Rice Party, HOMRA, PRiSM, and _Pandora_ are all in agreement.”

  
  


PRiSM’s triangular seal popped up on a hologramme, covering up much of a document with tiny text.

  
  


“Hold it,” Shiro shook his head. Personally, Kusanagi found comfort in him not being aboard for the random addition. “Fuyu a and Shiki are fine, but we don’t know for sure if-”

  
  


Kameko stood, making her way down the white staircase without so much a grain of interest in Shiro’s concerns. “It’s a pleasure to work with you all.” She snapped her fingers, and her twin Clansmen followed her in a heartbeat, Yuko and Uwaharu making their move as well. “But we should get going as soon as possible. You’d be shocked how much can Happen in the time we’ve wasted. Transportation is available for all present parties, but you’re free to arrive as you please.”

  
  


With that, the doors shut behind them with an echoing _thud_.  
  
  


When they finally left, Fushimi clicked his tongue as usual. He pulled out his PDA, thumb hovering over the screen.  
  
  


“Given your stunt, I doubt informing your former King shall do you any good.” Not even looking at him, Kuroh admonished Fushimi like it was nothing.  
  
  


Given he could take him and Yata out simultaneously, he had every right to in Kusanagi’s book.  
  
  


Anna already followed PRiSM’s example, heading for the exit. Keeping up with her, Kusanagi offered one piece of advice. “Everyone just needs to play their part. Leave Munakata to Kameko, Fushimi.”  
  
  


“It’s not him I’m contacting.”  
  
  


“Then who?”

 

Fushimi looked away. “No one important.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. listen. i post this fic for myself. maybe this chapter ain't the best but the fic's been dead for like two months leave me alone i thought i saw a suroomee fic with the same amount of chapters as this and i could not accept that so here we are.


	26. Kürzen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was done on my phone lmao

A lavish car with cushioned seats and tinted windows should be the epitome of luxury.

  


Watching someone like Kameko slide into one ruined that for Kukuri. It felt gaudy, excessive. Moreso when the dark window lowered, Kameko smiling at her like an old friend. She handed Kukuri a photo without explanation.

  


“Keep that photo with you at all times.”

  


Kukuri felt it crinkle in her grip. “What’s it for?”

  


“Just show it to Ameno and tell her to work her magic.”

  


Ameno? Who? Kukuri looked from the photo, but Kameko’s window rolled up just before Kukuri could ask, and the car drove off.

  


Left only with the photo, Kukuri sighed, looking over its details for the upteenth time.

  


Clans. Kings. Auras. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t wrap her mind around what she got wrapped up in. All she had to refer to ended up being the glow her hand had at Ashinaka, and Shiro’s mysterious existence. Neko and Kuroh, as well - far from normal. She’d always expected it. Their story of looking for a dear friend never… Really made sense. It _did_ , but something about it always felt off.

  


While she mulled over the situation, Sumika strolled up to her, holding her left arm. She always did that when uncertain.

  


“So,” she mused, “you have to act as some ‘decoy’ for …” She lowered her head, a twinge of exhaustion already clouding her eyes. “It sounds like some generic RPG. Kings and junk.”

  


Kukuri couldn’t help but laugh, half-hearted as it sounded. “I know what you mean. Everything kind of blindsided us. I can’t keep track.”

  


Kameko made it sound so simple. Take on the role as the would-be 'Gold King’. Nothing else. Don’t worry about being safe. That’s 'already taken care of’.

  


The worst part of it was Sumika’s involvement. She insisted on staying with Kukuri, but the latter couldn’t help but feel sorry. Maybe she should have told her to stay back at Ashinaka, instead of jumping at the chance to have an extra person to latch onto.

  


Sumika placed a hand on her shoulder. Worry still all over her face, but a gentle smile reserved for Kukuri. “Remember that big mess HOMRA dragged the school into? You were like, the only girl who didn’t cry aside from Chiho. Even if I’m not you’re tougher than whatever’s ahead. You don’t back down easy, you know. Even if you _do_ get scared.” Her smile brightened. “That must be why I’m gonna take this in stride.”

  


“Sumika…” Warmth in her heart, Kukuri nodded. “It’s not like we can back out now anyway.”

  


“So what’s with the photo?”

  


“Oh, it’s-”

  


A jingling bell cut her off. Before she knew it, Uwaharu pushed her and Sumika along. “Chit-chat later. Saving the world now.”

  


Of all the people to have as 'protection’.

  


Well, her and the 'White Rice Party’ (she _really_ needed to ask Shiro about that name), but Kameko specified Uwaharu as the primary protection.

  


“Hey, your feet’re dragging!” Kukuri could _hear_ her pouting. “Don’t worry, I’m stronger than I look. Between WRP and moi, you and your girlfriend are in _purrfectly_ capable hands.”

  


Yeah, because random cat puns made everyone feel safer.

  


Sumika slumped her shoulders. “Why pair you with a different, uh, Clan in the first place? Not your own Clansmen?”

  


“That’s a secret.”

  


“You know so far you’re not very helpful.”

  


“We’re not at the part I have to helpful yet, duh.” With a final shove, she had the girls standing outside, where the remaining three stood.

  


Three? No. An extra person stood alongside them. More of to the side, but clearly set on accompanying them. The dark-skinned girl with a composed, reserved expression. To be honest, Kukuri hadn’t pegged her the helpful type.

  


Shiro, catching Kukuri’s stare, shrugged. “She’s and her friends focus on backup for us."

  


“How?”

  


Kuroh crossed his arms and shook his head. “I wonder that myself, but it was the Colourless King’s order, so it’s anyone's guess.”

  
Enter said Colourless King. The friendly girl whose side Akina never left. The two reminded her an awful lot of herself and Sumika. But tougher, obviously.

  


The Colourless King held out her hand, just a little off of where Kukuri stood, and her gaze a bit over Kukuri’s height. She squinted somewhat, but not by much. “Fuyu Kantama. It’s nice to meet you.”

  


Hesitant, Kukuri shook her hand. “…Kukuri Yukizome.”

  


“And the friend next to you is Sumika Inaba. I know. I might have been late to the meeting, but nothing gets past me.  That's why you can believe me when I say I have an idea.  Pandora sticks to the shadows for the White Rice Party's benefit.  Between my Clansman and a King, we'll all be fine.” Her smile lessened. Actually, she tried and failed to keep it up, soon frowning. “I’ve known about Kings and Clans for the longest time, but being a King is a whole different story. It’s… Certainly a burden, depending how you achieve such status.”

  


Kukuri tilted her head. “Was it this sudden for all the Kings?” She can’t imagine all seven of them handling it well.

  


“It depends on the person. I for one can’t wait to be rid of it. It’s not like I can do much as the Colourless King anyway. It’s a huge joke, especially compared to the previous Gold King or Shiro.”

  


_Previous_ Gold King. No one told her a thing about him.

  


Akina finally spoke. “He _was_ leader of the entire country. Not to mention most technology. Don’t overthink it, especially with him dead. It won’t matter as long as we nip this in the bud as soon as possible.”

  


Fuyu shot her a sharp look. “Can’t you be a little more sensitive?”

  


“Mulling over it won’t help.”

  


Fuyu said something under her breath, but Shiro cleared his throat.

  


“She’s… Right.” His strained tone betrayed his ease. “And this really isn’t the time for introductions. We have a supernatural rock to destroy, after all.” His smile mirrored Fuyu’s. “For ’s sake, I hope you’ll be okay.”

  


Kukuri nodded. “I will.”

  


“Don't worry.” Once again, Uwaharu put herself in the conversation. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to them. It’s all easier done than said, really. That aside…” The smile turned into an airy laugh. “You sure _she’s_ up to it?”

  


She pointed at Neko. Or who Kukuri thinks is Neko. With how silent she’d been, keeping behind Shiro and Kuroh, it was hard to believe she hadn’t been replaced by an alien with bad acting skills.

  


But as soon as the focus shifted to her, Neko shrunk back. The look in her eyes… She was here, physically, but in some far-off time mentally. Even her bell swayed with less energy.

  


“I’m…” As soon as she spoke, her voice lost the strength anything further. Her eyes shut tight and she withdrew further into herself.

  
“There hasn’t been an opportunity to press her.” Kuroh, apparently the main shield from the world’s scrutiny, refrained from looking at her. “For now, it’s best not to.”

  


“Kuro’s hung out with her more than I have.” Shiro kept his voice low. “It’s best to listen to him.”

  


The girl was an enigma to Kukuri. She tended to be exhuberant, live life to the fullest, and eat to her heart’s content. When it came down to it, Kukuri had no place prying into her life.

  


Against, Uwaharu pushed her and Sumika. “Whatever you say. All right, for real this time. Less chatty more acting! WRP gets to float around, and Pandora has Shiki. So there’s no worrying about how to get there.”

  


Sumika stiffened. “Floating? Like. High up in the air floating?”

  


Shiro nodded.

  


“Isn’t there a more… On the ground method?”

  


“Not unless you’re okay with a melanistic horde galloping you there,” Uwaharu replied.

  


Why melanistic.

  


“I can turn into animals, but for whatever reason they’re all black. Melanistic parrot. Melanistic snake. Melanistic cat. Melanistic horse - or elephant it you wanna go in style.”

  


Sumika shuddered, turning to Shiro with great caution. “You’re sure this is safe?”

  


Shrugging, Shiro opened his umbrella. “Well, it can’t hurt to try.” Kuroh jabbed his elbow straight into Shiro’s side. He insisted on smiling through pained grunts. “It’ll be fine. I wouldn’t do something if I thought not.”

  


Nonetheless Sumika clung to Kukuri for dear life the second she and the others started glowing silver.

  


When Kukuri’s feet lifted off the ground, her heart fell to her stomach. This was happening. She was floating. Superpowers are real and she was floating. Shiro, Neko, Kuroh - all accustomed to it. Uwaharu - humming without a care in the world. Sumika - making a high-pitched whine in Kukuri’s ear. Her own heart throbbing from her stomach into her throat and ears and head.

  


If destroying some magical rock meant never ever having to float several hundred metres into the air, then good riddance.

  


 


	27. Kibō

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surprise motherfucker

A body laid motionless at Munakata’s feet. Who once stood as Tenkei Iwafune was now as dead as Seigo Otori. A heavy stone settled in Munakata’s chest.. If he had this much trouble with a normal Clansman…

Lost in thought, he observed the street in steel-cold silence. Scepter 4’s efforts focused in damage control. For the last hour JUNGLE players ran in a frenzy. They hollered about the roads twisting or stretching. Distorted perceptions of their surroundings. Neko's doing, no doubt. However, when the sun set, the effect wore off. That girl's abilities depended on her range and concentration – how far did Hisui base himself underground? The deepest level? Could that be far enough? Or did something happen to the White Rice Party, forcing her to switch gears?

  
  


No, if something of that nature happened, the White Rice Party surely had the means to contact HOMRA – and only HOMRA, for support. Many Clansmen already infiltrated the higher floors of <jungle>'s base, it would take no time for them to blast through the rest of the floors and provide aid. As such, Scepter 4's role remained above. Rounding up JUNGLE players to mitigate the carnage stirring in the epicentre of Yomito Gate. Although sabres clashed with metal bats and steel rods, profound silence wrapped around the space where Iwafune’s body lay.

  
  


A sigh. Cold breath thinned out in the air. Soft compared to ensuing war surrounding Munakata and his Clansmen.

  
  


“Sir.”

Seri Awashima's firm voice. She stood between Munakata and Scepter 4's former lieutenant, a behemoth of a man standing with a hard look and crossed arms a little away from Munakata. Certainly, he and Awashima were cut from the same cloth – dutiful to their respective Kings.

The urge for a smoke hit Munakata, but with Awashima's careful look on him, he pushed it down. Instead, his trademark smile appeared. He looked in Iwafune's direction, but not at him.

“This mist is clearing up nicely.”

  
  


“With him defeated, yes.” Awashima kept a level tone. Always matter-of-fact, calm, mindful of the atmosphere. Although her stiff posture gave away her exhaustion, but holding herself up in a manner fitting of her King and her subordinates had always been a strength of hers.

  
  


A shift in gears. “Without my leadership, how has Scepter 4 fared?”

  
  


“We were never without your leadership.” Seri shut him down promptly. Firmly, for that matter. Almost like scolding someone's accusation. Still, her expression softens. “It felt more like at a loss of how to help you in the long run.”

  
  


“Seems you've done just fine nonetheless.” He laughed, shaking his head. “A King who needs saved by his own Clansmen, that's surely-”

  
  


“To be expected,” Seri cut him off. She brandished Bellflower, a bright blue shield encasing her and Munakata before bullets pierced through them. The offender stormed them with reckless abandon; his hastiness being his worst enemy with Awashima making quick work of him. One swipe of her sabres Aura, and the man stumbled back, taking several others with him.

  
  


Adjusting his glasses, Munakata clasped his hands behind his back. “Impressive.”

  
  


Awashima studied him. Sheating _Bellflower_ , she took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders and watching other Clansmen apprehend their enemies with swift efficiency.

  
  


“I think it's best if you fall back for now, sir.”

  
  


Her suggestion constricted the air, tightening it into a vacuum sealed up in Munakata's head. Thanks to the 'plan' the Silver King proposed, it became clear to Munakata no one had any intention allowing him near Hisui. He did not share the same stability as Yashiro nor Anna. Even with HOMRA's King MIA, Munakata faced an entire slew of his own Clansmen determined to keep him from facing another King.

  
  


But the sound of tyres rolling across the pavement cease his thoughts.

  
  


JUNGLE members steered clear of it, scrambling back from the slow vehicle. It came into view without urgency, dividing the sea of Clansmen into cluttered pockets.

  
  


The jet black cat rolled to a stop. The door opened.

  
  


Damage control.

 

“Keep it up and I'll outlive seven Kings in the past 14 years, 'Captain'.”

 

A smooth deep voice, composed and confident. In the midst of chaos, it invaded the air with an artificial calm, soothing all in its wake. Not unlike the first rays of sunlight after a thunderstorm. Such an effect belonged to only one person.

 

Poised, Munakata turned from Iwafune's figure. Behind him, dressed sharp with knowing, pale heather eyes, stood the Sixth and Violet King herself. Beside her, Yuko Tamamo and a pair of twins.

 

Their presence signaled drastic change. With the disaster the Dresden Slate set for the world, PRiSM made a name for itself assisting in rallying support for the Strains it forced into life in Scepter 4's place. Just like <jungle>, the Clan rooted itself into major powers on national and global levels. They advocated <jungle>'s endeavours and vice versa. Its King showing in person to Scepter 4's King, in his former position of authority, no doubt entailed further government and public resistance to the Blue Clan's now 'unofficial' involvement.

 

As it stood, two Kings with an immeasurable gap between them met eye to eye for the second time.

 

Kameko looked beyond Munakata, her smile widening with a chuckle. “Or maybe eight Kings, at the rate today is going. Nine, less likely, but not an impossibility.”

 

Her Clansmen said nothing, instead watching the ongoing struggle between JUNGLE players and Scepter 4 Clansmen. Yuko pulled out her round. yellow fan from a dress fan, humming to herself. Violet eyes focused on a particular cluster of JUNGLE, whose carnage inched to the Kings more by the second.

 

When they came too close for comfort, a powerful gust pushed them away, all colliding with either a building or pavement clean on the opposite side of the street. Behind Yuko, the twin girls snickered.

 

PRiSM gains nothing wasting energy on JUNGLE players. They've made it clear they're here for themselves, and themselves only. The only question remaining: why?

 

Munakata sensed no intent to fight on Kameko's fight, but the way her Aura manipulated one's senses – almost to a total state of calm – rendered such instinct nigh useless. Before Munakata could say anything, Awashima stood in front of him. Wise enough not to draw Bellflower against a King,

 

Kameko lifted her hand, silencing Munakata. “Not everyone's here yet.” Her eyes guided Munakata to the sky, where a dot of crimson glided closer to them. He made the outline of large, bird-like wings.

 

 

It should be a joke, but Kameko left no room for laughter. Nor did the graceful sweep of garnet wings curving along the ground to reveal HOMRA's King and No. 2. Munakata recalled HOMRA's uproar over their No. 2's injuries, but he stood good as new right before the Blue King.

 

The chain smoker caught Munakata's stare. “Yup, well...” Kusanagi smiled, watching Anna's discussion with Kameko. “This n' that happened. Pretty sure I woke up after everything got set in stone.” He spoke not with resignation nor nonchalance. A careful tone mixed with caution and understanding reached out to Munakata..

 

  
“She’s against <junlge>,” Anna stated.

Her choice of words stuck out. At least to Anna, PRiSM no longer posed a threat as the _enemy_.

All of Munakata wanted nothing more than to dismiss this turn of events. Kameko Ryujin proved herself resourceful and dangerous. An absolute threat. Logically, Munakata should have no part in this. But he knew better than to second guess _Anna’s_ involvement. Her judgment rarely erred. This would be no different.

  
  


Especially regarding _her_.

 

With Daikaku Kokujoji's passing, the Violet King boasted the longest-running title of King. PRiSM boasted the largest number of Clansmen, majority being Strains of every background and classification possible. They had global influences. The world developed a dependency on PRiSM thanks to the Dresden Slate's unsealed power. And a vibrant Sword of Damocles their King proudly displayed.

 

Inferiority? No, definitely not. Nothing like that helped Munakata. It couldn't be inferiority, at all. Yes, it struck a cord in his proud heart, but it didn't make him feel lesser. He accomplished far too much, lived and thought too differently from Kameko to allow that. 'Admiration' didn't cut it either.

 

'Respect' maybe. He loathed Kameko's perspective – but thanks to it, she indeed made a name for herself among Clans and civilians.

 

 

“A golden opportunity to defeat the Green King awaits us, Munakata.”

 

“...”

 

Kameko's smile never fell. “Now then.” She lifted her hand to the sky, fingers pinched together. “Let's bring an end to this little skirmish, yes?”

 

Her fingers snap. Sharp and crisp. Sparks of red mixed with violet. A red shield wraps around Scepter 4 in separate pockets, shielding them from what was to come.

 

A violet spire pierced the winter blue sky. It curved and weaved, forming Kameko’s Sword of Damocles. Pristine, shimmering. It rivaled Anna’s in vibrance, and outclassed Munakata’s in form. The gem in its centre cast a blinding light over the streets. It flickered, and violet ‘rain’ fell from the sky - no, from Kameko’s Sanctum, completely engulfing part of the sky as an extension of her power.

Those unlucky enough to stand in the wake a violet Aura writhed, screaming and ripping helmets off, watching them melt into puddles. Guns, bats, metal rods – nothing safe from the Violet King's Aura. It stung skin without causing serious damage.

  
  


Training and instinct prompt Awashima to draw Bellflower once more. Munakata didn't stop her. Stray ribbons of violet Aura smack her hand, but Kameko hadn't moved a muscle since summoning the greatest of her powers. Outside the shield, Yuko Tamako flicked her wrist, spurs of wind spurring the 'rain' in a non-stop cyclone. Leaving nothing in its wake.

It died out quickly, the torrential downpour easing to a mist before dissipating entirely. Silence filled – dominated the air, corroded by Kameko's tranquil effect.

“Her... _control_ is incredible.” Awashima never gave empty praises – Munakata nodded. Once again, Kameko Ryujin demonstrated control and significance greater than he. For the second time in life, he truly felt second to a fellow King before him.

  
  


Kameko waved his praise off. “Kings . Isn’t that right, Red King?”

  
  


The protective Aura sputtered and shattered. Far behind Kameko, Anna swayed over herself, panting and grimacing. Still, she did not collapse, no matter how much she staggered. Unblinking eyes watched Kameko and Munakata, and she walked her way to them, head held high. Kusanagi stood right behind her, respecting her space.

  
  


“I’m impressed,” Kameko said, “the Red Aura isn’t made for _protection_. Using it as such a an mount of shields must be draining.”

Anna looked up, inhaling, and breathing out cold winter air. Her eyes cleared up, no doubt thanks to her remarkable resilience. “Everyone's safe.”

Yes. Not just the King and his lieutenant. All of Scepter 4 remained unharmed, baffled by the turn of events, but free of the burden JUNGLE provided.

 

“Awfully quiet, Blue King.” Kameko smiled, glancing around his Clansmen. “Your Clan is exhausted. It’s clear to see your role in this operation is over.”

Deep inside, Munakata bristled. His face his lips in a tight line. “We’ll be the judge of our own limits.”

Kameko’s eyes widen, smile _plastered_ to her face. “That’s forward of you.” She slipped her hands in her pockets. “But I can respect that. That said, please do respect my making an important business call.”

She pulled out a sleek PDA with her Clan’s insignia on the back. Its violet colour glowed bright under the darkening evening sky.

  
As requested, Munakata kept quiet. So quiet he heard the PDA’s muffled ringing, and watched Kameko smile at the _click_ answering her.

“ _Miss Ryujin?”_

  
“Good, you answered. How are things going, Yukizome?”

Yukizome. A name Munakata didn't recognise. From what he heard, she sounded young. Too young to be involved in this.

Not that such a thing mattered to Kameko. “Remember, you needn’t concern yourself too much over your role. I’ll be sure to coach you through it once the time is right.”

“… _why not tell me now?”_

“You’ll psyche yourself out thinking over it if I do. You have no understanding nor experience with Weismann levels. You could jeopardise your and Miss Inaba’s safety.”

The girl's silence spoke volumes. She took a deep breath.

“ _I understand.”_

“Good.” Kameko nodded. “Don’t worry, your friends will fulfill their role, and you’ll fulfill yours. Uwaharu is there to keep an eye on you in the meantime. That’s all I have to say. Goodbye for now.”

She hung up, dropping her smile and raking a hand through her short hair. “Honestly, you’d think people wouldn’t waste so much energy second-guessing more experienced figures.”

Having held his tongue long enough, Munakata spoke up, “Dragging civilians into-”

“She stopped being a civilian the second my technology pinpointed her with _just_ enough power to qualify as a Gold King. She only needs to distract Hisui long enough that the Silver King can carry out his original plan.”

Nagare Hisui’s speed made things far less secure than she makes it out to be.

_Nothing but tools for the bigger picture._

Eyes closed, Munakata buried the disgust boiling in his chest. Moral debate had no place here now.

“So that’s your role here. Taking over damage control and guiding civilians through their involvement.”

“More or less.” She walked past him, the click of her heels putting an end to their talk. She stared Iwafune’s body down, kicking his gun just out of reach. For the first time, she looked as cold as she acted, holding no warmth in her eyes. She crossed her arms, clicking her tongue. Iwafune’s body motionless at her feet.

“You’ve held out long enough.”

Why did she try speaking to him?

She muttered more to him - to herself? Until finally she spoke up. Two words - a name.

“ _Seigo Otori,_ that’s an extensive nap you’re taking.”

“Sayuri, Ren.”

 

Alert, amber eyes turned to Kameko. “Yeah Boss?” Their voices acted in unison.

 

Kameko pointed to Iwafune's body, where the flow of blood finally slowed on the cold pavement. “Take him to base. He's no good to anyone dead.”

 

The girls exchanged confused glances, tilting their head opposite of one another. The more Munakata watched them, the more he believed they acted more like they belonged in a play, rather than being sisters tightly bonded by blood. Their movements all too in sync and perfect.

 

“Isn't he the enemy?”

 

“Yeah, a good enemy's a dead one n' stuff?”

 

A small smile. “Maybe.” Kameko shrugged with a laugh. “But good 'justice' is 'justice' served.”

 

Although the twins understood nothing, Munakata kept his guess to himself.

 

'Justice' meant a punishment, a consequence. And dead men receive no punishments.

 

Kameko continued, undeterred by the violet stare glued to her back. “If you hurry and get him some medical treatment, he'll be right as rain.” She waved them off, dismissing them to their duty. And just like that, the twins and Iwafune were gone.

 

Strains ranging from aerokinesis to teleportation, let alone their Aura's power. PRiSM's involvement was and always would be dangerous. Munakata grimaced, seeing the spot where Iwafune lay already covered in small patches of snow.

 

 _Snow_.

 

Sighing, he closed his eyes. His eyelids dark, but memory vivid. He remembered pure white snow charred by fire and ash. Pure white snow stained red.

 

Kameko's voice cut through his troubled thoughts. Once more, her powers dispelled anxiety and concern, leaving nothing but a numb calm.

 

“One way or another, a King will die today – you know that.”

 

Offering but a solemn nod, Munakata opened his eyes, now scanning over his Clansmen, all looking on without a single bit of hesitation. “But when one King perishes...”

 

A King driven to defend those around him stood next to the King driven by her own goals and whims.

 

“...another likely follows.”

 


	28. Katana

The White Rice Party stood in the vast entrance to Basement 10, bathed in vibrant blue hues. The depth muted sounds of conflict above, leaving them in complete silence. Pandora split from the group, leaving the White Rice Party running in solitude.

 

For Kuroh, silence meant a time to clear his thoughts. Master Ichigen emphasised the value of peace and quiet since the day he saved Kuroh. It'd been why he loved the mountain village so fondly. Uneventful, but peaceful. Slow-paced, but lively. With the way blue light poured into the basement, it almost resembled cool village nights illuminated by a full moon.

 

_A bright white smile_

_Illuminates an abyss_

_Bearing good health_

 

Yukari sat a top the highest beam spanning across the ceiling, smoothly reciting a haiku of Master Ichigen's. One of the few Kuroh failed to record in his youth. No, possibly one he never heard before, but Yukari had the luxury of hearing for himself.

 

He slid from the beam, landing with grace and standing in perfect symmetry with the building's interior architecture. He made no move from where he landed, smiling as usual.

 

“You won't be moving beyond this point.” With a light tone to his voice, he nodded to himself. Almost like recalling a fond memory. “Not when I'm giving my all.”

 

Yukari could be right. With his strength and experience, he made himself a force to be reckoned with. Getting past him would be no different from forcing one's way through a blanket of sparkling snow and feeling winter bite into every nerve in one's body.

 

Yet, much like then, it had to be done.

 

Kuroh stepped forward, feeling tense energy from the other three. Between Neko's illusions and Akina's stealth, it should be no problem for them to guarantee Shiro reaches Hisui without fail. They all shouldered the responsility, but defeating Yukari went beyond assisting Shiro, Kuroh knew that. Even now, with the Dresden Slate devastating the world, he could not deny the fact this became personal long before the White Rice Party ever formed.

 

“Go on ahead.”

 

Shiro stayed still, his eyes boring into the back of Kuroh's head. “Kuro.”

 

“I must defeat this man alone.” A selfish statement. Certainly reckless. Completely out of line for everything Kuroh stands for. Surely Master Ichigen never wanted his pupils to clash as enemies, and when it came down to it, this pushed the group's best bet against Hisui, second only to the Silver King, away from the main conflict.

 

Still, nothing would ever get done if people weren't a bit selfish from time to time. And this, Kuroh believed, qualified as _that_ time.

 

He turned to his companions, all watching him carefully.

 

“Let me do this my way...” Saying it lifted a weight off his chest. An earnest request he wouldn't waver from. “Just this once.”

 

Amber eyes widened, but softened into a smile. “This is the first time you've insisted on anything.”

 

Kuroh returned the smile, nodding slightly. The smile fell as soon as Yukari spoke again.

 

“I admire your spirit, but...”

 

In fluid movements, Yukari drew Ayamachi, and took a step forward, his deep-flame eyes looking past Kuroh. “Unless you defeat me, there'll be nothing to stop me from going after your King.”

 

Kotowari bared its blade, offering an unspoken response to Yukari's threat. Kuroh didn't bother stepping forward. He didn't have to. His fight was right here.

 

Although the King and his Clansman run past him, Yukari's eyes never left Kuroh. That glint in his eye – one Kuroh could only call eagerness – brightened, a supernova colliding with the sun.

 

Ichigen Miwa's two students never knew if he saw them clashing swords as enemies. No one did. But now, Kotowari and Ayamachi faced each other, blades colliding and echoing without end. Within, both swords carried indomitable wills. They acted as extensions of Yukari and Kuroh's resolve. One for the Green King's sake, the other for the Silver King's.

 

And today, they fight for their Kings a final time.

 


End file.
